A Fine Frenzy
by arainymonday
Summary: New Directions and the Warblers experience new friendships, hookups, and breakups as they perform a musical rendition of Shakespeare's A Mid-Summer Night's Dream at a Renaissance Faire.
1. No Fear Shakespeare

**Disclaimer:** I'm just playing in the Glee sandbox. If you recognize it from elsewhere, I don't own it.  
><strong>Established Ships:<strong> Klaine, Brittana, Samcedes, Finchel, Tike, Luck, Nuinn (Nick/Quinn), some Warblers/OCs  
><strong>Timeline:<strong> Summer 2011 (between Seasons 2 and 3)  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> Rated M for swearing and intense, but not explicit, sexual scenes.  
><strong>Spoilers: <strong>All of Season 1 and 2

**Author's Note:** Hello, I'm Heather. I'll be your author for this story. I've been writing for a long time, but this is my first Glee fanfiction. I hope I do justice to the show and characters I love so much. I have just a couple of remarks before you begin the story.

There are four main plots in this story, but of course I can only select two main characters in the story information. Here they are in descending order of attention: A. Klaine, B. Nuinn, C. Brittana, D. Samcedes. This is very much a group story, however, and every character has their moment to briefly shine whether they're part of a main plot or not. I've taken the Warblers' names from the yearbook photo on Glee Wiki. I don't know if that's an official listing or fan made. Either way, I don't own their names.

There is an "outtakes" companion series of one-shots to this story which you can find listed on my author page. These are scenes I really wanted to include, but I know they're filler. Feel free to request the missing moments/absent characters scenes you'd like to see. I'm not saying I will write all the requests, but if it sparks an idea, I'll gladly run with it.

And now that I've gotten all that off my chest …. I hope you enjoy the story. Thank you for reading and even more for reviewing.

* * *

><p><strong>A FINE FRENZY<strong>

"The poet's eye, in fine frenzy rolling,  
>Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven;<br>And as imagination bodies forth  
>The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen<br>Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing  
>A local habitation and a name."<p>

-_William Shakespeare_  
><em>A Mid-Summer Night's Dream, Act V Scene I<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>The Fishers Renaissance Faire occurs annually in October, but I've changed that to August. This plot only works as a summer story, so I exercised some creative license.

**Chapter One**  
><strong>No Fear Shakespeare<strong>

_First week of June_

At 8:03am three days after summer vacation began, an incoming message arrived from Will Schuester: _Meet me in the McKinley choir room at 9am tomorrow. I have an idea to discuss with you. I promise it will be worth getting up early._

The short text was vague enough to cause a round of raised eyebrows and pique the curiosity of teenagers already bored to death in small town Ohio and eager to escape their parents' lists of chores for one day. As the recipients met over the course of the unseasonably cool day in clusters of three or four at the mall or Skype or summer workplaces, they speculated on the Spanish teacher/glee club director's idea. Early rehearsals for Sectionals, team-building exercises, songwriting seminars, and searching for the unicorns in Brittany's backyard were top contenders.

Kurt pulled his black Navigator into the William McKinley High School parking lot ten minutes to nine the following morning. Already, he felt a building pressure behind his eyes. From the dark expression Mercedes wore in the passenger seat, and the frequency of Sam's eye rolls Kurt caught in the rearview mirror, he suspected he was not alone.

"What do you think Mr. Schue has planned?" Finn asked for the fourteenth time.

Only Rachel in the middle seat between Sam and her recently on-again boyfriend looked completely unfazed by the repetitive question. Kurt took a deep, steadying breath and reminded himself that older brothers were supposed to annoy him before cutting the ignition and hopping out of the SUV. Sam and Mercedes vacated the vehicle equally quickly, and together the three glee club members not besotted with the sound of Finn's voice charged toward the doors Mr. Schue implied would be unlocked.

"Next time something exciting happens –," Sam started, once enough distance had been put between the two groups.

" – like getting a text message from a teacher?" Mercedes snickered, nudging Sam's side with her elbow.

"What a sad statement about our lives," Kurt sighed in agreement.

" – you can't leave Finn alone all day," Sam continued undeterred. "He practically blew up my phone with that one question yesterday. Have you ever tried to balance five pizza boxes and take payment with a constantly vibrating cell phone in your pocket?"

"Can't say I have. Anyway, it's not my fault Finn got himself banished to the front office of my dad's garage for pouring windshield wiper fluid into the cooling system of a '67 Impala. Maybe a day of answering phones and watching daytime soaps on the lobby television will teach him to pay attention."

Kurt caught Sam's stricken look in the glass as he pulled open the door and held it for Mercedes. Their footsteps echoed sharply down the empty hallways of the high school. A creeping sensation of being somewhere they didn't really belong settled over the teenagers as they beat a path to the choir room. Infrequently, they passed a classroom full of remedial students. Coach Beiste stood at the front of the Driver's Ed class demonstrating the ten-and-two grip on what looked like a lawnmower's steering wheel.

Conversation and song already drifted out of the choir room. Santana and Quinn's voices accompanied a slow melody on the piano while Mike and Tina twirled around the room. Puck, Artie, and Lauren sat on the bottom risers talking intently while Brittany swayed serenely in the back row. The blonde former cheerleader leapt up from her place the instant she saw Kurt in the doorway and ran to him.

"Hello, Britt," he said, surprised by her enthusiasm. It had only been three days since they said goodbye to each other in the hallway after clearing out their lockers, and they had plans to watch a romantic comedy together soon.

"Did you know they're allowed to take off their jackets? I thought they were like lo-jackets, so I was really confused when I saw them but didn't hear any alarms going off, but Santana told me it was okay."

Kurt, Sam, and Mercedes blinked at Brittany for a moment, trying to unravel the undoubtedly simple concept behind her confusion. Movement in his periphery drew Kurt's attention, and he snapped his head left to take in the sight of Blaine and the Warblers, all in street clothes, occupying half the McKinley choir room.

Sam and Mercedes, finally understanding Brittany, tried to stifle their laughter as they joined their teammates and said hello to the Warblers they recognized from Sectionals and Regionals. Kurt, meanwhile, met his boyfriend by the piano and shared a chaste kiss.

"Blaine, what are you doing here? What are you all doing here?"

Blaine took his hand and led him to a chair on the bottom riser in the center of the room so Kurt was directly between the Warblers and New Directions. Before the lead soloist could begin to explain, however, the Warblers descended on Kurt. It had been months since he'd been with them all together, and they all wanted to say hello and congratulate him on New Directions' Nationals placement.

"Because twelfth is better than losing Regionals. Which I guess you know," Nick said with a laugh.

"We all got a message from your choir director asking us to meet here," Blaine finally explained. "I wanted to ask you what you knew about it, but the Council insisted on meeting first to talk about it, and we didn't finish until really late last night."

The dark-haired boy threw a disdainful glance at Wes, David, and Thad who sat in the back row chatting with Mercedes and Sam. When he turned back to his boyfriend, his expression melted into adoration so quickly Kurt couldn't resist the urge to grin back stupidly.

"Haven't they graduated yet?" Kurt wondered.

"Yes, but technically the new Council doesn't take their position until the fall term begins."

Nick jumped into the conversation from the second riser. "So until Blaine, Jeff, and Cameron are officially seniors come August, we're at the mercy of Wes and his gavel. Which David did not let him bring, thank god."

"Our lives will be so much easier once that damned thing is safely in Blaine's possession," Cameron agreed.

Kurt's fingers tightened around Blaine's. The Warblers had elected a new council at the end of term, for them a week ago, and the vote had been unanimous. Blaine, Jeff, and Cameron would serve on the Council with Blaine taking the primary leadership role. Considering how uneasy the formality of the Council had made Kurt when he attended Dalton, he was ridiculously proud of his boyfriend.

"You do know I can hear you, right?" Wes asked loudly.

Mr. Schue chose that moment to make his entrance. The teacher was dressed more casually than normal in jeans and a polo shirt. The popped collar caused Kurt to visibly shudder, but at least there was no vest paired with the hideous orange shirt. Mr. Schue scanned the room proudly, a big grin stretching across his lips. New Directions greeted him warmly, though they'd hardly been apart at all, and the Warblers smiled politely.

"Thank you for coming. I know you're all probably eager to know why I asked you here."

"I already know," Brittany announced. "You're finally going to try and catch the unicorns in my backyard." She looked seriously at the Warblers, who bore expressions ranging from disbelief to amusement. "They fart magical rainbows."

The glee teacher took a moment to collect his thoughts while the Warblers exchanged curious glances and looked to Kurt to see how they should react. Kurt, like the rest of New Directions, hardly batted an eyelash.

"Yesterday, a friend of mine from high school – from a rival glee club, actually – called to congratulate New Directions on Nationals. While we were on the phone, he mentioned how much he would love for us to perform at an event he organizes every year."

"Setting aside the fact that you were good friends with someone from a rival glee club," Rachel interjected, and then stole a guilty look at Kurt and Blaine before continuing, "this sounds like an excellent opportunity, and I vote in favor of performing."

"You don't even know what it is," Quinn pointed out.

"It can't be worse than having a shoe thrown at you," Mercedes countered, offering Quinn an apologetic smile.

"Or a cat," Kurt added pensively.

"Or singing at a theme park," Blaine said.

"Or in a GAP," Wes said with a self-satisfied note in his voice.

"Excuse me, Mr. Schuester," David spoke up, just barely containing his laughter, "but I'm still a little unclear why the Warblers are here, if your friend specifically requested New Directions."

"There aren't enough members in New Directions or the Warblers alone, and since you're all so friendly, thanks to Kurt, I thought you all might be open to working together to perform a musical this summer."

A murmur of genuine interest passed through the group. New Directions, minus Puck and Lauren, had fond memories of putting on _Rocky Horror_ even if no one did get to see it in the end. Kurt and Rachel were nearly vibrating with excitement. Many of the Warblers appeared equally enthusiastic about the idea. Several of the members, including Wes, already had applied to performing arts programs for college.

"So it's decided then?" Mr. Schue asked with a big smile. "New Directions and the Warblers are doing a musical!"

Unable to help themselves any longer, Rachel and Kurt both leapt to their feet and raced each other to the front of the room. The briefest glance was all they needed to know they shared a vision for their summer. In unison, they blurted out, "_Wicked_!"

"Guys, guys," Mr. Schue struggled to be heard over the conversation that broke out instantly on the New Directions side of the room. The Warblers, except for Blaine, looked shocked over the informality. "_Wicked_ is a great musical, but it's not appropriate for our venue. The event organizers already selected the script we're going to be doing."

"So what is it?" Santana demanded.

Rachel and Kurt regained their seats looking equally curious, if both a little downcast that they wouldn't have the opportunity to perform the musical that had made their trip to New York so memorable for the both of them.

"A musical adaptation of Shakespeare's _A Mid-Summer Night's Dream_."

Ten seconds of dead silence followed the announcement, and then suddenly the Warblers were talking excitedly about the rock opera version Trent had told them about. Half of New Directions looked intrigued and half of them look aghast.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Mr. Schue, I'm sure it's gonna be great for the eggheads and losers who actually do stuff like read Shakespeare, but some of us are too badass for that," Puck said. "I even sat through that snorefest the drama club did two years ago – _Julius and Juliet_ or whatever – and I didn't have a freaking clue what was going on."

Kurt shifted uncomfortably in his chair and glanced sidelong at his glee club. Finn looked equally distressed as Puck, and even Mercedes was frowning. Sam, who was dyslexic, looked green around the gills. Brittany probably had no idea what was going on, but if she was able to speak Elizabethan English in iambic pentameter, Kurt would eat all his Hermes scarves.

"That will be part of the rehearsal process. Nobody worry about it, okay? If I can teach you all a foreign language, I can teach you Shakespeare," the teacher returned.

"Mr. Schue …." Mercedes looked as nervous as she had when she'd asked to play Frank-N-Furter. "Why do we have to do Shakespeare? Couldn't we do … _Singing in the Rain_?"

Anyone uncomfortable with Shakespeare immediately latched onto the idea of doing their teacher's favorite musical. The Warblers stayed absolutely silent, and Kurt was never more grateful for polite prep school manners. There wasn't a single Dalton student who dreaded reading Shakespeare because he didn't understand it. They may dread it for other reasons, but never for that one.

"Come on, guys. Think of everything you've overcome together," Mr. Schue urged. "What is a little convoluted English compared to choreographing a song twenty minutes before going on stage or writing original songs or embracing what makes you unique?"

Finn nodded with determination. "You're right, Mr. Schue. We can do this."

Notoriously dim-witted Finn Hudson claiming he could learn to perform Shakespeare motivated the rest of New Directions to agree as well. Kurt made a silent promise to help his brother however much he needed, even if it meant _Pip Pip Hurray_ had to be put on hold until next summer.

"That's the spirit! Okay, now, the Fishers Renaissance Faire is at the end of August just before school starts, so we have two months – "

"The Fishers _what_?" Lauren interrupted.

"Renaissance Faire. It's an event where a group of people come together to recreate a Renaissance village. There's singing, dancing, plays, food, archery, sword-fighting …. The one in Fishers, Indiana is one of the biggest and best in the country. It's a privilege to be asked to be one of their main entertainers."

"That is so uncool that if I actually did that, I'd have to slushie myself," Puck stated.

"I love Renaissance Fairs," Richard countered loudly. "I'm the president of my chapter of the Society for Creative Anachronism."

Puck took in the tall, muscular beat boxer. Without the Dalton blazer, he looked older and tougher than a high school junior. In fact, Kurt guessed he reminded Puck a little of the guys in juvvie who stole his waffles. The McKinley bad boy backed down without another word, and Lauren muttered an insult that made Mr. Schue do a double take and then pretend he hadn't heard.

"Anyway. Obviously, I know everyone in New Directions and their strengths, but of the Warblers I've really only heard Blaine sing."

The boy in question shifted uncomfortably. Ever since Kurt called him on taking center stage too often, he'd insisted the Warblers distribute solos more evenly. They had been able to shine the spotlight on several others, but not at a competition yet.

"To make it fair, I thought we would hold auditions at the beginning of next week. Come prepared with a song and a passage from a Shakespeare play other than _A Mid-Summer Night's Dream_. I'll see you all in the auditorium Monday at 9am."

With the assignment given, Mr. Schue released both glee clubs. They filed into the hallways in small clusters, discussing the impending auditions. The Warblers told their McKinley counterparts about the wonder that was SparkNotes as they emerged into the parking lot. More than one iPhone was pulled out immediately.

"So … we have the rest of the day," Blaine said, tugging Kurt flush against his side and wrapping an arm around his boyfriend's waist. "Unless you're going to help your dad in the garage again."

"No," Kurt said quietly. "And I think Rachel will probably drag Finn over to her house to start preparing for the audition, so we probably have the whole house to ourselves. Unless some of the Warblers drove here with you?"

A shy smile hitched into the corner of the shorter boy's mouth. "No, I drove separately. Much to their delight and my embarrassment, I might add."

Kurt reluctantly handed over the keys to his Navigator to Finn. His brother was too busy pretending to listen to Rachel wax on about which song and which monologue would be best paired together to realize that meant Kurt and Blaine would be at the house alone for the next several hours.

**o o o**

Quinn jogged down the hallway past a group of Warblers gazing at the bulletin board that still held a hodge-podge of signup sheets for glee club, Cheerios, and half a dozen other school events. They looked amused by the riot of color, but she didn't pay them much attention, except for the dark-haired boy she accidentally knocked into.

"Sorry," she said, but didn't stop hurrying down the hall.

Tina was holding open the door while Mike wheeled Artie through and down the handicap ramp when Quinn caught up with them. Tina looked surprised that Quinn joined them as they headed to the parking lot.

"Umm … do you need a ride home?"

"No, I drove myself. I wanted to talk to you about running lines together," the blonde replied.

The three Quiz Team members shifted their eyes around to glance sidelong at each other, and Quinn fought down a stab of irritation. After two years, the glee club was still suspicious of her motives. She knew she'd played her part in their internal drama, but so did Finn, and no one distrusted him.

"Why? You don't really even talk to us," Artie said.

"You know that goes both ways, right? You don't talk to me either. Why it is always up to me to start conversations?"

"Because you're popular."

Tina looked so sure this was an obvious response that Quinn sighed in irritation. She wanted to storm away, drive home, and sulk about how unfair this year had been. That was how she had planned on spending the first few weeks of summer anyway.

"And a lot of good it's done me." She didn't list the disappointments junior year had delivered. It would culminate in the Prom Queen debacle – even she didn't believe she was more hurt than Kurt by that – and losing Finn was too recent. "Look, we're the smartest students at this school. The four of us and Kurt are academically the top of our class. I know Finn thinks anyone can play these parts, but they can't. It should be us."

"I'm not getting a lead," Mike said. "I can't sing, remember? But I think Quinn has a point. The three of you should have those parts."

Tina and Artie nodded, and Quinn tired to overlook their lack of enthusiasm. She would do whatever it took to beat Rachel out for the lead female role, even if that meant spending time with glee club members who would clearly rather not have her around.

"Great. Why don't you come over to my house tomorrow? My mom has a benefit she's attending so we'll have the whole place to ourselves."

They agreed to the plans and said a quick good-bye.

The Warblers who had been staring at the bulletin board circled around a black Escalade, Range Rover, and silver Mercedes parked two spots over from Quinn's little red car. They were catcalling at Kurt and Blaine, and the good-natured humor among them reminded her of those times when she was head cheerleader. Some of the Cheerios hated her and only wanted her spot, but they'd had genuine moments of friendship too. She missed that, fitting in with a group of her peers.

"You dropped this in the hallway."

The dark-haired Warbler she had bumped into in the hallway had broken away from the group and was holding out a book of sheet music. It must have fallen out of her bag in her hurry to catch up with Mike, Tina, and Artie.

"Thank you …"

"Nick. And you're Quinn, right?" She nodded. "You have good taste in music, Quinn."

She glanced down at the glossy blue cover of the songbook with a crooked smile. "I think this is a little too commercial to be complimented."

"Yeah, I'm in the Warblers, so I won't be casting the first stone."

They shared a brief moment of laughter before one of Nick's friends leaned out the rolled down window of the Escalade and yelled, "Hurry up, Nick, or we'll leave you here to watch Blaine and Kurt make out!"

Quinn climbed into her car while Nick hurried over to his friends, shouting back equally obnoxious and humorous threats at them. On the drive home, Quinn thought about how having the Warblers around this summer might be more important than filling roles in a musical. From everything Kurt had said, they were an open and accepting group. Maybe, for once, someone would look at her without suspicion.

**o o o**

"We're going to Breadstix. You coming?" Puck asked, leaning against the door of his battered pickup full of pool cleaning equipment.

Santana paused with her hand on the door handle of Brittany's yellow Bug and stared at Lauren, who stood on the other side of Puck's truck. She had ceased to care a long time ago that her ex-boyfriend was dating Lauren – they had even gone to buy prom dresses together – but she sensed it would be dangerous for two fierce bitches to spend too much time together.

"Pass," Santana answered for herself and Brittany. "We need to go to the public library and find us some Shakespeare books."

"You're not serious. Is Santana Lopez going soft?"

"Screw you, Puck. You might not know the difference between _Julius Caesar_ and _Romeo and Juliet_, but I'll have you know that I aced that unit in English class."

"Yeah, but we're doing this at a freaking Renaissance Faire. You know the guys are going to have to dress up in tights and stupid hats and stuff. Puckzilla's not down with that. No freaking way I'm auditioning for anything."

"Way to be a team player. I should have been lead singer at Nationals, and I will be the lead in this musical."

"The lead role is for a male," Lauren commented neutrally. "And did you seriously miss the contradiction in what you just said?"

"Everyone wants to be in the spotlight," Santana fired back.

"Not me. Not this time. I'm not right for the leads, so I'm not going for it." She shrugged. "It won't be any different from competitions where I harmonize in the background, and I'm perfectly happy with that anyway."

Santana suspected that was far from true. She kept up enough fronts to recognize one when she saw it, but before she could retort, Brittany interrupted the flow of conversation.

"A male what?"

"What?"

"You said the lead was a male. Like a male boy? Or a male cat? Or what?"

Lauren blinked. "Yeah, that trip to the library sounds like a good idea. Good luck."

Puck and Lauren drove off in the direction of Breadstix, leaving Santana and Brittany alone in the parking lot. The Latina girl turned to peer at her friend across the roof of the car. Sometimes, her comments were funny, but other times they made Santana worry about Brittany so much it twisted her stomach into knots. It was a hard world out there, and innocent souls like Brittany needed protection from all the bad waiting to abuse them.

"You're totally going to rock the musical," Brittany said, on the drive to the library. "If there's a bitch part in the play, Mr. Schue will totally give it to you, and then you'll be the most awesome person on stage and everyone will love you as much as I do."

Santana wanted to smile, but she couldn't shake the twisting in her stomach. "What about you, Britt? Do you want a part?"

"I heard one of Kurt's Gay School friends saying that the play was about fairies. I could totally be Tinkerbell."

"You totally could."

Santana swore that if it was last thing she did, Brittany would have a speaking part in the musical. She was about the worst teacher ever, though, and she knew it. Most of the Cheerios had been reduced to tears after Santana ripped them a new one for not picking up a routine quick enough. And as much as she could memorize sonnets and figure out their general meaning, she didn't think she could get Brittany to understand.

Damn it all. She was going to have to ask for help. Santana rolled her head to look over at Brittany, who was bobbing her head and singing along to Adele in the driver's seat. She could swallow her pride. Brittany was worth it.

**o o o**

Six of the Warblers had crammed themselves into David's Escalade, and they didn't bother hiding their grumbling. Nick and Trent had driven over with Blaine in the morning, and the return to Westerville with two extra bodies was more cramped than they'd anticipated.

"I swear to god that better be your inhaler poking me in the ass!" Wes snapped at Cameron.

"It is!" the other boy fired back. "But thanks for the huge compliment, Wesley."

"Well, we have all seen you in the shower."

Cameron lunged over Wes to throw a punch at Richard. "All right, Sir Richard of the Oh-So-Funny-Jokes, let's talk about what Honor told me about – "

Wes squawked as the two boys tried to start a fist fight around him. In the front seat, Trent almost missed his ringing phone. He saw Jeff's name on the caller ID and picked up just before it went to voicemail.

"Oh, man, do not ever tell Cameron and Wes that you told Flint he didn't have to wait for Nick. I think they'll overlook their differences and kill you for having an empty seat in the car," he said, by way of greeting.

"_What the hell?_" Luke's tinny voice demanded. "_There's four of us stuck in the back of Thad's Range Rover and you've only got four people in Flint's car!_"

"_I fucking hate you guys!_" Jesse agreed. "_Get off my leg, dude!_"

"_Uh, yeah_," Jeff said sheepishly. "_This is a group call. Thad wanted to talk to the other Council members. He said we should put our phones on speaker._"

That idea lasted approximately seven minutes. Wes, in the back of David's car, had to lean forward to be heard clearly through Flint's phone, and Cameron got sick of having Wes's rear end floating in front of his face, so he kept poking him with the inhaler.

"We can't be sure if – I will not miss you when I'm at college!" Wes shouted, rounding on Cameron. "I am _this close_ to resigning right now and giving Blaine my gavel!" A rousing chorus of cheers echoing through Flint's speakerphone pushed Wes over the edge. "I'm calling an emergency Warblers meeting! David, Flint, Thad – drive to Dalton."

The custodian on duty was surprised to receive a call from Wes requesting he unlock the meeting room, but the Warblers rehearsed on campus often enough during the summer that he did it without question. He may have grumbled about power-hungry teenagers not sticking to their own rehearsal schedule, though.

"Someone please get Blaine on the telephone," Wes ordered as he took his seat at the center of the Council's table.

"Uh, Wes … he's with Kurt. We're not really going to … uh, interrupt?"

Wes glared daggers at Nick until he raised his hands in defeat. He took out his phone, and Jeff sitting beside him could clearly see Nick dialing his own cell phone number. "Straight to voicemail. I guess Blaine saw this coming."

"Smart," Jeff murmured.

"Just currying favor for solos next year. You'll mention this to Blaine?"

"Man, that's so Machiavellian. But, yeah, I'll tell him."

"While I'm hesitant to have this meeting without next year's Head Warbler here, it seems we have no choice. I, therefore, call this meeting to order. I know we're all excited about the musical Mr. Schuester has invited us to take part in, but I gather there are some concerns?"

"Yes, namely that the auditions won't be fair because Schuester favors New Directions," Thad said, summarizing the only point discussed in the seven minute phone call.

As various Warblers stood to share their opinion, Nick seriously considered truly calling Blaine about this. Their discussion was off balance without their voice of reason in the room. Nick didn't disagree with Thad, Schuester probably did favor New Directions, but that was only natural. What he didn't like hearing were the conspiracy theories.

"Council, if I may?" Nick said, standing after Luke took his seat again.

"The Council recognizes Warbler Nick."

"Probably it is true that Mr. Schuester favors his own students, just as I'm sure the Council favors the Warblers. Be that as it may, the Council has never denied there is talent in New Directions. We voted for Kurt to sing a duet at Regionals, and I've heard a lot of us compliment Rachel Berry's extraordinary voice. If we're able to be objective, then certainly so is a teacher. I think that focusing on the worst possible outcome will sabotage us. We should rehearse our audition songs and monologues so that when some of us win those lead roles, they won't be tokens to appease the rest of the group."

Nick regained his seat, and Jeff leaned over to him. "You know, if you'd spoken up like that in more meetings before now, you would have been voted onto the Council instead of me."

The dark-haired boy shrugged. "I never had to. Blaine was always here to do it."

"The Council agrees with Warbler Nick. Not only do we all have excellent voices, but a lot of us are in drama as well. I'll request the second choir room and auditorium are open to use tomorrow and Sunday for practice. Meeting adjourned."

**o o o**

"We should rehearse more," Kurt mumbled half-heartedly.

After leaving McKinley, they had gone for lunch and then returned to the Hudson-Hummel home. Flipping through Kurt's copy of _The Complete Works of William Shakespeare_ had been perfunctory. The thick tome lay forgotten on the bedroom floor, accidentally kicked off the bed by one of Blaine's feet. For the last hour, Kurt had been draped over his boyfriend. Blaine, for his part, was doing his best to run his fingertips over every inch of Kurt's torso, neck, and face.

"Time for that when your parents get home," Blaine mumbled breathlessly.

Seeing the logic in this, Kurt pressed another heated kiss to his boyfriend's mouth. When he sighed happily, Kurt took the opportunity to slide his tongue inside Blaine's mouth again. Their tongues battled for dominance and sent surges of pleasure to Kurt's groin. He could feel Blaine's mutual hardness pressing into his thigh too.

"Unless we have to stop now?"

"Not yet," the countertenor whispered.

Blaine nearly ruined it all by moaning deliciously into their next kiss.

Sometimes, Kurt felt they had been only kissing for too long, especially after their intense make out sessions when Blaine had to go home and he was left to handle his arousal himself. He fantasized about more, and dreamed about it often too, but he didn't have the courage yet to ask Blaine about it, much less to slip his hands below his boyfriend's waist. Blaine was too much of a gentleman to push Kurt, and that was turning out to be a blessing and a curse.

Kurt's wandering mind betrayed him. He had been imagining Blaine's hands on him, and his cock had responded by hardening more. Reluctantly, he pulled out of the kiss and rolled off Blaine. The boys lay on their backs staring up at Kurt's ceiling with their hands intertwined. One day, Kurt would have enough courage to follow through on his desires, but not today.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"Don't be. And don't think we have to do anything more than what you're comfortable with. You waited for me to open my eyes and finally see how perfect you are for me, Kurt. I'll wait for you until you're ready to take the next step."

Speeches like that almost made Kurt forget his unease and fear. Almost.

"So, does that mean you're ready for … more?" he asked uneasily.

Kurt was very aware that he was Blaine's first boyfriend too. The first time their making out had become heated enough to excite them, Kurt's body had responded first. He wouldn't forget the shock and bit of fear on Blaine's face. His reluctance to go further wasn't entirely selfish.

"Yeah … I think."

The honest hesitancy relaxed Kurt, and he tightened his hold on Blaine's hand. "I think I will be soon."

Eventually, their bodies quieted and it was safe to cuddle up together. Kurt put Ian McKellen's _Richard III_ into his laptop and then joined Blaine at the headboard. They sank into the mound of pillows Blaine had gathered with their arms and ankles twined together.

"I wonder if the script has been adapted like this," Kurt pondered. "I think some of the themes could work well in a more modern setting. I hope the adapter hasn't changed the language, though. How awful would that be to lose the authenticity?"

"I don't know. It, uh, might be easier for some of your club."

Blaine's voice had taken on an apologetic tone, but he didn't point out anything Kurt hadn't already noticed. He nodded and turned his eyes away just as the tank crashed through the brick wall on screen.

"I'm going to offer to help Finn. Rachel will be too obsessed with getting the Hermia role to consider how difficult this will be for him. I read his essay on _Hamlet_ for English last year …. I might mention it to Sam and Mercedes too."

"You're amazing, you know that?" Kurt couldn't keep the stars out of his eyes. "I can be there too, if you don't think they would mind. And you know all the Warblers are team players. Once we're all cast, they're going to be annoyingly helpful."

"I'll see if they want to get together this weekend for a pre-audition sleepover."

"Will your dad let me stay?" Blaine worried. "I mean, now that we're _in love_, he's even less likely to let that happen, right?"

After the exchange of 'I love you's in the Lima Bean, Kurt had spent all day in a deliriously happy fog. Even his pre-calc final hadn't seemed as awful as the studying had made it seem it would be. He had wandered into the house after school practically floating. Burt's amused, "What's gotten into you, kid?" had been answered honestly: "Blaine …," and here Burt had choked on his sandwich, "… loves me."

"You'll have to sleep on the floor in Finn's room. Or on a mattress on Finn's floor. I wouldn't lay on the actual carpet, if I were you. If I can convince Rachel to come too it won't be such a big deal since Finn's girlfriend will be in my room."

Burt arrived home a little after six o'clock and shouted up the stairs for Kurt to come help start dinner. Carole was working later than her usual shift change, and not long after Kurt and Blaine entered the kitchen, Finn called to ask if he could bring Rachel for Friday night dinner.

"Set the table for six," Burt said.

The Hudson-Hummels never doubted anymore that Blaine would stay for dinner if he was around. Mr. Anderson's tolerance of his son's sexuality extended only so far as he didn't see or hear about it. When as obviously besotted as Blaine was, it was difficult to hide.

Over dinner, the teenagers explained to Burt and Carole the musical Mr. Schuester was having them do over the summer. Their excitement – minus Finn, who only managed to hide his worry – was infectious. Even Carole, exhausted from a fourteen hour shift at the hospital, perked up.

Burt took Kurt's free wrist in his hand. "If you want to try out for a girl's part, you make sure Schuester knows we'll have a repeat of last time if he has a problem with it."

Blaine paused with a fork full of pot roast halfway to his mouth to grin lopsidedly at Kurt. After he'd heard Kurt sing "Blackbird," he couldn't get enough of his boyfriend's voice. He had cajoled Kurt into singing dozens of songs in his repertoire, and "Defying Gravity" had blown him away.

"Don't worry, dad, we're past that now. I auditioned for lead at Nationals with a girl's song, and Mr. Schuester was very impressed. But I won't be trying out for a girl's part this time. There are far more male parts, and they're – forgive me, Rachel – much better than the girls' roles."

Rachel sighed deeply. "I know, and it's totally unfair. There are really only three roles worth having: Hermia, Helena, and Titania. Competition will be fierce."

Kurt thought that was the right time to bring up the idea of having a sleepover to rehearse. At first, Rachel seemed opposed to helping her rivals, but Kurt communicated with a few punctuated looks that if she didn't agree, Blaine wouldn't be allowed to stay. Carole noted her husband fairly glaring at Blaine and interceded on the boys' behalf.

"I think that sounds like an excellent idea. And very generous of the boys to share the benefit of their private school education, isn't it, Burt?"

Burt made a noise in the back of his throat and said to Blaine, "You sleep on the floor in Finn's room."

"Yes, sir."

"Well, of course he will, Burt," Carole said, shaking her head. "Just like Rachel will sleep in Kurt's room."

"So what would the rule be for someone who is into boys and girls?" Finn questioned, spearing a piece of apple pie thoughtfully.

The table went silent for a moment before Rachel asked, "Is there something you want to tell us, Finn? Because I would be totally supportive, as long as you remained faithful and devoted to me alone."

"What? No." Kurt was impressed that his brother didn't sound the least bit defensive about it. "I just wondered because Sam hasn't had a girlfriend in a long time, and I mean, we all know about Santana and Brittany."

Burt shook his head in disbelief as he stood from the table. "I know this glee club makes you all happy, but it seriously concerns me sometimes."

**o o o**

"Oh, hell to the no, boy," Mercedes said with a giggle. She hated that it came out that way. Her phrase was meant to inspire respect in all who heard it. She found it hard to concentrate properly in her current position, though.

"Sorry," Sam murmured, his lips still pressed against her neck. He moved his hands away from her thighs to her hips and grinned into the kiss at her collarbone.

"You're pushing your luck, Trouty Mouth. You're lucky you're such a good kisser or I'd have to kick you out of my room."

She was just getting into her diva groove again when Sam turned her thoughts fuzzy by pressing a hot kiss to her mouth. If he kept it up, Mercedes didn't know how long her 'no touching below the waist' rule was going to last. She would make damned sure it was long enough that she wouldn't feel guilty sitting in church on Sundays and in glee club next to Quinn afterwards.

"I can go if you want," Sam teased, pulling away and pretending to climb off the bed.

"Oh, no, you don't."

She pulled him back onto the pillows beside her by his collar. Before they could resume their make out session, Mercedes's phone demanded _R-E-S-P-E-C-T_ from the bedside table. She considered ignoring the text message, but it might be Kurt or Quinn saying they were coming over. Until Sam was ready to tell everyone about them – when he stopped feeling guilty that he couldn't take her out and buy her things – they had to stay vigilant.

"It's from Kurt," she said, reading the message. "He wants to have a sleepover. Oh … tomorrow night."

Sam leaned against the headboard, giving her room to text him back. He tried and failed to not look disappointed.

"I'm gonna tell him I can't come."

"What? No, you don't have to do that. You always have a good time with Kurt and Rachel at your sleepovers."

"Yeah," she ducked her head to find his eyes, "and I'll have a great time babysitting your brother and sister with you tomorrow. What seventeen-year-old girl doesn't secretly want to go to the playground at the park and watch Disney movies all day?"

"Seriously?"

"Boy, you don't even know."

_Sorry, can't. I have plans tomorrow. –M_

It didn't take Kurt thirty seconds to reply. _We're practicing songs and monologues. You sure you can't come? –K _

Mercedes looked up to tell Sam what Kurt had texted and saw her boyfriend reading a text on his own phone.

"Uh … Finn just invited me to stay over tomorrow night. Rachel and Kurt want to practice …." He trailed off when he saw Mercedes nodding. "Right. My parents probably won't be back until about ten or something. If you want to practice with them …."

"Nah, I think we got this. We'll work on it together tomorrow. Stevie and Stacy like singing, so we can perform for them, and we can practice lines when they get sick of hanging out with us."

_Sorry, but no. –M _

Sam sent a text to Finn a few seconds later. "Thanks, Mercedes. It's almost three. I told my mom I'd be back before then so she can go to a job interview in Columbus."

Mercedes said good-bye to Sam at the front door and returned to her room to hear her ringtone starting its second loop. She scooped it off the pillow where she'd dropped it and saw Kurt's name on the display.

"Hey, Kurt."

"_Mercedes! So … you've got to tell me what's so important you can't come to a Kurt Hummel rehearsal sleepover. Is it a boy?_"

She hesitated for a second too long. "Wha – No. It's, umm, my dad has a work thing … uh, a party for all the dentists in his practice."

"_Oh. We can move it to Sunday night._"

Sunday was Sam's day off, and his parents never had interviews. It was the one night they could be together, even if their date was only a DVD and bowl of popcorn in the Jones's living room. Mercedes chewed her bottom lip. She hated lying to Kurt, but she'd promised Sam she wouldn't say anything.

"You know I have church on Sunday night, Kurt."

"_Mercedes …._" He sounded like he wanted to say something that he knew she probably wouldn't take very well. "_Listen, Blaine is going to be here too. We're going to help Finn with Shakespeare. You and Sam looked kind of freaked out about it today. Not that I'm sure why you were because you killed Lady Macbeth's lines when we read aloud in class._"

Her lips pulled to the side in a guilty grimace as she tried to find any reasonable excuse for that. She wasn't worried about the audition at all. She had this, and she knew it. But Sam had looked so overwhelmed about reading Shakespeare ….

"_And you and he both said … Oh my god, Mercedes! … You and Sam!"_

She closed her eyes, never more thankful that her best friend couldn't see her right now. "Of course not, Kurt."

"_Okay. Because you were the first person I called when Blaine and I started dating, and I hope I'm the first person you call when you have a boyfriend._"

Mercedes chuckled and said honestly, "I promise you'll be the first to know."

"_Well, if you do need help with lines after all, we'll be here all night tomorrow. Just me and Blaine. And Rachel and Finn. Wow … my dad is not going like this at all._"

She said good-bye to Kurt and padded down to her brother's room to see if he had found time to clean the pool yet. His excuse that he had too many important things to do – Skype with his college friends, troll Facebook for mentions of parties around Lima, and read magazines – was getting old. She almost hoped that he still hadn't done as promise, though, so she could yell at him until he got off his lazy butt. It would distract her from the fact that she had just lied to her best friend in the whole world, the best friend who had trusted her with his closest secret when he'd told no one else.


	2. The Slushie Machine of Gloom

**Chapter Two**  
><strong>The Slushie Machine of Gloom<strong>

_First week of June_

The Dalton parking lot already contained half a dozen familiar cars when Blaine pulled in Saturday morning. He retrieved the stack of sheet music and songbooks from the passenger seat before beating a familiar path to the side door of the arts wing. He wished he could have spent all day with Kurt, but he didn't feel like he could decline rehearsing with the Warblers when he was going to be leading them come the fall term.

Although they were an acapella group, the Warblers practiced in a fully equipped music room. Five Warblers stood around the piano singing "Get Off" while Jeff picked out the tune on the keys. The effect was just ridiculous enough to earn them an amused audience. Away from the risers, near the shelves with sheet music, David was flipping through a huge tome that could only be _The Complete Works of William Shakespeare_. From the number of similar sized books scattered around the room, he wasn't the only one who had brought a copy.

"What do you think, Blaine? Can I pull off Lear? Or should I do something more stereotypically black like Othello?"

"Screw stereotype," Blaine scoffed. "I don't think Mr. Schuester will cast that way, anyway. Kurt said he's been receptive to him singing songs traditionally done by women."

"So he wasn't accepting of that before?" David clearly wasn't impressed.

"Because I'm so sure you were totally okay with gay guys before you knew me."

The other boy shifted uncomfortably. "Well, then Lear it is." He turned to the other Warblers and proclaimed, "Prepare to be owned by my awesome monologue!"

With the rendition of "Get Off" complete at the piano, six more Warblers were free to heckle David right back. For the next quarter hour, rustling pages and insults occupied the glee club. Jeff sidled over to Blaine and leaned in.

"Should we, you know, start vocal warm-ups first or something?"

"Yeah, I think we're all here now. Go ahead."

Blaine knew Jeff was hesitant about accepting his role on the Council. He had, after all, auditioned for seven solos and never received one. Jeff didn't understand why the Warblers trusted him on the Council when they didn't trust him to perform solo at competitions. Blaine also knew that the Warblers needed three equal Council members. Jeff had the summer to gain some confidence, and he couldn't do that if Blaine always took the lead.

"Oh … okay." He stood up and cleared his throat. "Warblers, we should, uh, warm up so we can trade off practicing songs and monologues."

Seventeen boys silently took their places on the risers, accepting the direction of their soon-to-be Council member. Wes nodded his approval to Jeff, but also surreptitiously to Blaine. Soloist material or not, Jeff had a good voice and great vocal range. Only the bass and falsetto soprano scales eluded him, and Richard and Cameron came to the front of the room to lead those.

"I think you should keep leading warm-ups," Thad commented, "with Cameron singing like a girl and Richard imitating the Balrog of Moria to assist, of course."

"That thing is awesome," Richard said to the other basses, and they started growling deep in their throats to mimic the creature's sound effect.

Jeff, meanwhile, flushed scarlet. Thad had always run warm-ups before, and with the exception of the preoccupied basses, the other Warblers appreciated the moment for what it was: a passing of the torch.

As the glee club broke apart, some boys returning to their monologues and others wandering over to the instruments, Nick clapped his best friend on the back. "I'm happy for you, man. What do you say we plot Wes's demise next while we pick our monologues?"

"I heard that," Wes grumbled, with a deep scowl. He turned to the only Warbler not scheming to remove him from power. "Blaine, help me with song selection?"

It had been a long time since Wes had a solo. He felt it was his duty as Head Warbler to become one of the harmonizing group. He'd spent a whole year so focused on selecting songs perfect for Blaine's voice (and later Kurt's), that he'd almost forgotten his own strengths.

"It has to be a show tune or something enduring," Blaine said, flipping through a stack of Broadway songbooks. "No offense, but you really can't pull off pop songs."

Wes rolled his eyes. "Only you would take that as an insult."

"I think "Seasons of Love" is probably too overdone, but you could nail that one. What about Sinatra or Cole Porter? Or – oh! – "Ya Got Trouble"?"

He hesitantly accepted the music Blaine held out. "_The Music Man_. This song is …."

"Funny and appropriate? Right for your voice? Your favorite song from your favorite musical?"

"Insanely difficult to perform."

Similar conversations were happening throughout the room. While Wes pondered whether he could pull of "Ya Got Trouble," Blaine overhead the notes for "Across the Universe" on a guitar and Cameron trying to convince Luke to do one of Jaques's speeches.

"You are not leaving Dalton until I have this down or I'll tell Kurt you convinced his dad to give him The Talk," Wes said finally.

"I've already told him that."

"Then I'll tell him you doddle little hearts around his name in the margins of your notes."

"He knows that too."

"You suck at blackmail," Nick said neutrally, as he passed Wes and Blaine. "Threaten to tell Kurt Blaine had you and David slushie him so he could empathize better with the bullying."

"I never did that!" Blaine objected.

Nick shrugged. "And it's not like we could fabricate proof by dumping a slushie on one of your shirts and leaving it somewhere in your room for Kurt to see."

Wes bore an outrageously smug expression considering he hadn't even come up with the blackmail.

"You know, blackmail wasn't even necessary in the first place, Wesley," the lead soloist sighed.

**o o o**

The gentle hum of the air conditioner off set the soothing rhythmic beat of the Adele album as Quinn bustled around the Fabray home putting the finishing touches on everything. The maid had been by to clean yesterday, and the gourmet pizzas Quinn had picked up in Dayton had just come out of the oven. Songbooks, an iPod loaded with instrumentals, and _The Complete Works of William Shakespeare_ sat on the coffee table.

"Have fun with your friends, Quinny," her mom called, and before Quinn could answer, the front door snapped shut.

She tried to distract herself while she waited for Tina, Mike, and Artie to arrive. The Fabray home had never been noisy, but for the last year it had been especially silent with only herself and her mother living there. It felt like pieces were missing, but Quinn didn't know what or why it bothered her so badly. The only thing absent was the father who had rejected her when she needed him the most. It shouldn't have troubled her at all, she reasoned, as she perched on the edge of the couch.

Sometimes, though, she missed him so much she wanted to lock herself away and cry out her anger and frustration. It wasn't his presence that she missed – she still saw him at least once a week – it was the father he used to be, or the father she had thought he'd been. A year and a half later, she still didn't know which was worse: being kicked out of her home for a mistake or realizing the father she adored had never really existed at all.

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway brought her out of her thoughts, and through the front window she saw Tina getting Artie's wheelchair out of the trunk and Mike lifting the other boy out of the passenger seat. She plastered on a smile and opened the front door for them.

"Come in. Have you had lunch yet? We have pizza."

For the first half hour, uncomfortable silences passed under the guise of eating. The gourmet pizzas were something of a novelty for teenagers in Lima who usually decided on Pizza Hut or Domino's based on which chain was having the better special that week. They tried to have a conversation around that fact, but failed and descended into silence again.

"Do you think _Hamlet_ is too obvious?" Artie asked finally. "Because I was thinking of doing a soliloquy. It's the only Shakespeare I've actually memorized."

"I'm sticking to comedy since that's what _A Mid-Summer Night's Dream_ is," Mike reasoned.

Quinn nodded, but added, "It depends on how you want Mr. Schue to cast you. If you want a comedic role like Bottom, then you have to do a comedic monologue. But if you want a role with more emotional depth, then a dramatic monologue is what you should choose."

"What are you doing then?" Tina asked. She had picked up the volume of plays and was scanning through _The Merry Wives of Windsor_.

"The opening scene of _Richard III_."

Her answer drew an immediate response from her fellow glee club members. Artie looked away and shared a significant glance with Mike over the top of his glasses. Tina's eyes had widened so much she looked like Miss Pillsbury.

"What?" Quinn demanded. "You don't think I can do it?"

"It's just …," the other girl started. "Don't you think it's a little … dark?"

"The best monologues are delivered by actors who feel emotionally connected to the character," Quinn argued.

"You feel _emotionally connected_ to _Richard the Third_?"

Quinn flushed under the disconcerted stares. "Why shouldn't I? He's born with a deformity and ostracized because of it. He's forced to play second string to his brother the King. The cruelty and unfairness of his life drives him to make bad decisions, which he's vilified for when all he's doing is playing the role everyone secretly wants him to play anyway."

The most uncomfortable silence yet descended on the small group. Quinn looked away to stare out the window over the freshly clipped grass. The glee club might not want to admit it, but she had only ever acted the way they all expected her to, and those expectations had colored their impression of her. If only they had tried to get to know her objectively, they would know a whole different Quinn Fabray.

"Let's practice your soliloquy, Artie," Mike said eventually.

The next few hours passed more easily. Quinn was impressed by Artie's acting skill, and Tina killed her monologue from _A Comedy of Errors_. Mike had excellent comic timing with Orsino's melodramatic melancholy from _Twelfth Night_. His dancing skills gave him a great physicality, and she laughed through his whole monologue.

"That was great, Mike!" Tina said, between fits of giggles.

The dancer peered up at her, still hanging half off the second couch, with an exaggerated frown marring his lips. Still in character, he sighed dramatically and lamented the cruelty of friends who laughed at his misery. Artie, Tina, and Quinn stopped laughing immediately.

"Uh, guys, that was part of the monologue," he said uneasily. "I didn't really mean …"

It was Quinn who voiced their shared disbelief. "Mike, you just adlibbed Shakespeare, and it was in iambic pentameter."

He shrugged. "Maybe I'll join drama club next year, if they're not doing musicals."

"No," Quinn said forcefully. "I am sick of the people who deserve the spotlight the most being overlooked. No, you're getting a lead role in this musical." She passed a songbook to Tina and another to Artie. "We're not leaving this room until Mike has nailed a song."

Mike looked like he was trying to disappear into the couch cushions. He protested until Tina threatened to burn his tap shoes, and then he sulked silently while his friends debated the merits of various songs for him to perform. He had only ever sung once in front of the group, and that was with Tina and purposefully off key.

"What about "Fields of Gold"?" Artie asked, when he was two-thirds of the way through his songbook. "It's a fairly simple melody, but with emotional depth, and I think it's in Mike's range."

"It is," Tina confirmed.

Quinn pulled up the instrumental track on her iPod and plugged it into the dock. "Artie, you sing it first. We'll teach him that way. It'll be just like learning a song that plays on the radio all the time."

Mike didn't look convinced or particularly comfortable, but he agreed to try. As Artie sang and Mike parroted, Quinn leaned over to Tina to hold a whispered conversation.

"I think 'Can't Sing' was an overstatement."

Mike didn't have a bad voice, but neither was he soloist material yet. It was more a matter of him having an untrained voice. Quinn didn't think they could correct that in the course of one day, but all they needed to do was convince Mr. Schue Mike had the potential to carry a lead role.

"That's what I told him, but he refuses to listen," Tina whispered back. "I hope Mr. Schue agrees."

"As a teacher, it's his obligation to nurture our talent."

"What choir room have you been in for the past two years?"

Quinn and Tina stared at each other for beat before breaking into silence giggles. The only talent being fostered in glee club was Rachel's. Everyone else had to fight tooth and nail for any chance to shine. To his credit, Mr. Schue did sometimes force Rachel to take a backseat, but it never lasted.

"Do you think the leads have already been decided?" Tina asked.

Quinn hesitated. "Yes. And none of us are getting leads because we're not Mr. Schue's favorites anymore. Lately, whenever he picks a girl over Rachel, it's Santana." The Asian girl nodded solemnly, as if she too had reached that conclusion. "That's why I wanted to rehearse today. The only thing that has ever made Mr. Schue change his mind is a big shock to the system. We have to go in there Monday morning and blow him away."

"We should rehearse tomorrow too. When do you get home from church?"

A slow, happy smile crept over Quinn's lips. "12:30."

**o o o**

Wes wasn't satisfied with his performance of "Ya Got Trouble" until close to four o'clock, which put Blaine roughly four hours behind schedule. He'd texted Kurt to apologize, and of course his wonderful boyfriend understood. All Kurt asked was that Blaine stop by the Village Pantry on his way over and buy enough Twinkies to appease Finn while they rehearsed.

The tenor made his way through the aisles tossing much more than overpriced pastries into a shopping basket. If they truly worked all night and into Sunday on the material, it would take more than a box of Twinkies to keep them all alert.

He was about to check out when the whirring, illuminated machine caught his attention. The spinning metal mechanisms within called to Blaine, tempting him to indulge in the icy goodness of a cherry Slushie. Ever since Nick had brought up Slushies, Blaine had craved the cold sugar rush, and the muggy weather outside made it even more inviting. He would finish it before he got to Kurt's house, he reasoned, and indulged.

The bill for a single grocery sack of junk food totaled an outrageous figure, and a less polite person than Blaine would have snarked at the cashier. There was a comment about food costing about half of Dalton's tuition in there somewhere. But Blaine kept his thoughts to himself and headed out of the store with the plastic bag swinging from a wrist and sucking on the cherry Slushie.

"Hey! Hey! Look, everybody, it's Hummel's boyfriend!" called a vaguely familiar voice.

Blaine looked for the speaker despite himself. He recognized the McKinley letterman's jacket more than the jock wearing it. Part of his brain knew he'd wandered into a bad situation, but all he could really think was: _'Isn't it way too hot to wear that thing?_' He did know another figure in the group of jocks, however. Dave Karofsky hovered several feet behind the speaker, looking equal parts nauseous and guilty.

"Azimio," Karofsky said uneasily, "let's go."

"Nah. I think I'm gonna have me some fun with the fairy boy."

Blaine's body reacted to the insult on its own. His fists clenched around the Slushie so tightly the plastic popped in his grip.

"Z," Karofsky said with more meaning, "we don't do this anymore. The Bully Whips – "

"We ain't in school, man," the one called Azimio reasoned.

Blaine knew he should get into his car and leave, but all he could do was stare at Karofsky. They hadn't made eye contact since the Night of Neglect benefit. Kurt thought he had honestly changed, but Blaine wouldn't believe it until he saw it with his own eyes. Now that he saw it, he didn't know what to say about it.

"Dude, let's just _go_," Karofsky practically shouted.

"Okay, okay. We'll go."

Azimio's eyes slid down to the Slushie in Blaine's left hand, and a darkly gleeful smile stretched over his lips. Before Blaine could register what was happening, the jock's palm thrust the cup upwards. The lid had already popped free of the cup from Blaine's too tight hold, and the red Slushie splashed across his face.

It felt like jumping into a lake in January or being pelted with a hundred snowballs in the face. The stinging cold against his skin almost overpowered the burning sensation of his contact lenses freezing to his eyeballs.

"_What the hell?_" Santana's voice demanded. "Seriously, Dave?" Karofsky tried to say something, but Santana cut him off. "Just …. If you can't even – just … _go_."

Blaine heard a thump and someone grunt, but he didn't dare open his eyes to see who the fiery Latina girl had hit. Next thing he knew, a pair of slender fingers reached into his pants pocket and removed his keys. Santana removed the empty Slushie cup from his hand, took his free arm, and led him to his own car.

"I know it's a bitch, but we're like two minutes away. We'll get you cleaned up."

She fired the ignition and revved the engine before spinning out of the parking lot. He wanted to tell her to take it easy on the vintage Mustang, but his eyes burned too badly to concentrate on anything else.

True to her word, Santana parked the car two minutes later and ran around to the passenger side to lead Blaine up a walkway. She pounded on the door and tapped her foot impatiently. The door swung open a moment later, and Blaine recognized Brittany's voice.

"San –! Oh!"

A second delicate hand closed around his other arm and the two girls pulled him inside and ushered him down a narrow hallway. Within seconds, a tap was turned on, and Santana guided Blaine's face under the gentle lukewarm flow.

"Open your eyes, just a little bit," Brittany cooed in his ear.

It sounded like the worst possible solution, but he was willing to try anything to end the burning. As soon as he cracked his eyelids open, the red dye washed out along with his contacts. He sighed in relief, and the pressure of Santana's hand on his head lessened.

"It'll be okay," the blonde girl said soothingly. "The Slushie Machine of Gloom hates everyone in a glee club, but if _My Little Ponies_ has taught me anything, it's that rainbows always win in the end."

"Don't you mean Doom? The Slushie Machine of Doom?" Blaine asked. His voice echoed against the porcelain sink.

"No, Gloom. Because getting slushied makes you sad. Gloomy."

It was the first time one of Brittany's statements had actually made sense to Blaine.

"Britt, go call Kurt and tell him what happened," she directed.

"No!" Blaine objected. He placed his palms on the cool porcelain of the bathroom sink to push himself up, but Santana wouldn't allow it. "Santana! He'll freak out and rush over here and – "

"Exactly. Your _boyfriend_ who _loves you_ will come over here and make sure you're okay," she snapped. "God, why are coupled up people so quick to push away the person they claim to want to share every moment with?"

He tried to crane his neck to peer up at her, but she wouldn't allow it. She forced his head further under the flowing water and started working her fingers through his hair. Chunks of red ice fell into the sink and disappeared down the drain. The throbbing brain freeze started to abate. Her nails scraping against his skull might have felt good if the arch of his back wasn't so uncomfortable.

"I mean, if I was coupled up with the person I love, I wouldn't push them away at every freaking opportunity that came along. I would do the freaking opposite. I would do everything I could to make sure they got everything they want."

"Santana … do you need to … talk?"

Her lack of response was answer enough. Satisfied all the Slushie was out of his hair, she removed her hands and let him stand up. While he blinked the water out of his eyes, she pressed a fresh towel that smelled like lilacs over his face and hair. A minute later, she dropped the towel onto the sink and seized a hand towel. After running it under the water, she started to wipe at the sticky syrup dripping down his neck and under his shirt. The gesture was so tender and caring, Blaine could hardly believe it was Santana helping him.

"So, that fancy prep school you go to probably has all kinds of classes about Shakespeare and acting, right?" she started, not meeting his eyes. Her voice was hard as ever, but her hands worked gently at the sugar glued to his skin.

"Yes. The Warblers have been rehearsing all day, and I'm on my way over to Kurt's to do the same with Finn and Rachel. We thought Finn …." He didn't know how to tactfully say that his boyfriend's stepbrother was kind of dim so he just trailed off. "I'm sure you're welcome to join us if you need – want – to practice with us."

"Not me. But – "

Brittany appeared in the doorway at that moment clutching her phone. "Kurt said he's …." The blonde blinked at Blaine. "Where did Blaine go?"

"Uh, I'm right here, Brittany."

Her face showed genuine surprise. "_Blaine?_ Blaine, are you a chia pet?"

"W-What?"

"Well, we put your head under the water and it grew."

A hand instantly flew to his wet hair and felt the curls that had reappeared after Santana worked all of the gel out. Brittany reached forward cautiously, amazement written all over her face, and gently tugged on one ringlet. She looked delighted when it sprang back into place. Blaine smiled at the innocent girl, very close to laughing, but then he caught Santana's concerned frown and everything clicked into place.

"Uh, Brittany, Santana … why don't you both come to the sleepover at Kurt's? After everything you've done to help me, the least I can do is treat you to junk food and juicy gossip."

"Can I keep doing this?" Brittany tugged on another of his curls.

Blaine hesitated. He had intended on getting his hair gelled back into place before Kurt arrived. The last thing he wanted was for his fashionable boyfriend to see him with an unruly fro. His eyes darted to Santana, and his heart went out to her.

"Sure, Britt."

While Brittany went upstairs to her room to pack a bag, Santana retrieved Blaine's overnight bag from the back of his car and left him alone to clean up a little more. Dried red syrup coated his torso, and getting it out of his chest hair hurt a lot worse than wiping it off his neck. Fifteen minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom in a fresh change of clothes, his drying curls a mess, and his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose.

Kurt paced across Brittany's living room with his phone clutched in his fist and fist at his mouth. He spun when he heard Blaine enter the room.

"Blaine! Oh my God, are you …." The worry and anger on his face melted into something very like shock. "O-_Oh_!"

The dark-haired boy self-consciously tugged on his curls. Kurt was his immaculate self in black boots, white skinny jeans, and a black-on-black shirt-vest combination. His cheeks turned bright red, and Blaine had the idea that Kurt was about to explode from the sheer discomposure of his boyfriend's appearance.

"Yeah … I, uh, well … my hair … wet …." He averted his eyes.

Kurt didn't sound like himself when he spoke again. He seemed disoriented, probably at finding his dapper boyfriend looking like a stoner beach bum. "U-Uh, right. I know you have curly hair … and eyes. I mean – "

Santana made a disgruntled noise, almost like a laughter snort, and rolled her eyes. "Can we get a move on? We still have to go pick up my stuff, and Lima Heights Adjacent is all the way on the other side of town."

Blaine followed the girls out of the house and was dismayed to see that Santana still had his keys and was climbing into the driver's side.

**o o o**

The poplar trees surrounding the playground provided very little shade, Mercedes realized after she'd been sitting in the sun for over an hour. Stevie and Stacy showed no signs of tiring under the intense heat anytime soon, so Mercedes took another long drink of lemonade and leaned back against the rough bark of the tree.

"Are you worried about the auditions?" Sam asked suddenly.

She had refrained from bringing up the try outs so far, but they both knew they needed to prepare something for Mr. Schue. "Not really. I've got enough Aretha in my back pocket for a lifetime of auditions, and I read Lady Macbeth's lines in class, so I'll brush up on that before I go in."

"Oh. I talked to Puck last night. He said he's not auditioning at all."

"What? Boy, you don't give up before even trying! You didn't think I came unprepared?" Mercedes pulled a small battered library book out of her bag. The peeling gold letters read _The Sonnets_. "I thought this would be a little easier than a monologue. You don't have to worry about stage directions and asides and all that."

Sam took the book hesitantly and flipped past the title page and verso to the first Sonnet. "From fairest creatures we desire increase, / That thereby beauty's rose might never die."

Despite the heat of the afternoon sun beating down on her, Mercedes shivered head to toe. Sam flipped to the page she had dog-eared: Sonnet 24. He started reading, but paused almost immediately. For a moment, Mercedes was worried she'd picked something too lovey-dovey. The 'lover's intertwined' meaning might have been too much. But then she realized he was actually struggling with the words, not their meaning.

"Let me."

Mercedes took the book back and read the whole sonnet. Confusion played across Sam's face, just as it had every student in the English classroom until the teacher had explained the sonnet to them. She skipped the analysis and started teaching Sam the lines aloud. He might not always notice the obvious things, but Sam wasn't dumb. Within an hour, he had the whole sonnet memorized by rote.

"Adding emotion can wait until we get these two some lunch," she said, as Stevie and Stacy skipped over and attacked the picnic basket.

The younger Evans' chatter filled lunchtime with playground gossip. Mercedes learned that two kids called Adam and Scott had kissed on the jungle gym and was pleased to see that neither of Sam's younger siblings found that funny nor wrong. She had yet to meet Sam's parents, but she already liked the way they'd raised their kids. They also had a serious discussion about the merits of tetherball over foursquare.

Grandma Jones's brownies were a huge hit with Stevie and Stacy, but Mercedes questioned her judgment in packing them. The sun had turned the already gooey brownies into a sloppy, sticky mess. She and Sam wisely skipped dessert, but the kids couldn't resist burying their fingers into the chocolate goodness.

"O-kay," Sam said, after Stevie showed signs of wanting to press his messy fingers into his sister's hair, "I think it's time to get cleaned up."

While Sam marshaled his brother and sister to the park restrooms, Mercedes packed up the lunch basket and tossed the remains into the trashcan. On her way back to the blanket, she stopped short. Lauren leaned against the tree with her arms crossed over her chest.

"Hey, Mercedes. I thought I saw you over here."

She hitched a smile onto her lips and tried not to let her eyes dart over to the pavilion where the concession stand and restrooms were. "Hey, Lauren. I didn't expect to see you at a park."

The taller girl nodded over her shoulder at three black-haired girls on the swing set. "Summer job. I'm a nanny."

Mercedes smile slipped into a concerned frown. What kind of insane parents would let Lauren Zizes babysit their children all day, every day? "Oh. Well, I was just working on my audition material. I guess since I've done that I should go."

"You want to hang for a while? They look like demon spawn, but I put the fear of God into them. They won't bother us."

Over Lauren's shoulder, Mercedes saw three blond figures approach, but then Sam recognized Lauren and backpedaled. They were heading for the parking lot.

"Uh, no, I don't think I can. I promised my dad I'd be done practicing my song before he got home from work. Some other time."

Mercedes arrived at the car ten minutes later with the picnic basket hanging on her arm and blanket tucked underneath. Sam rushed forward to take the items from her. She could just make out Stevie and Stacy playing on the slides.

"Sam," she started, a sigh in her voice.

"I know."

"Twice, Sam. In a week. First Kurt and Blaine and now Lauren. I think Blaine definitely knows. Did you see that look he gave us in the Lima Bean?"

He shut the picnic items in the trunk and leaned against the car with thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose.

"What? No, that was just his dopey _I'm-so-in-love-with-Kurt_ look. Nobody knows, and they can't know, Mercedes."

"Look, Sam …. You want to be able to take me out and buy me flowers. I get that. But our friends, they won't judge you because you can't do that right now. I'm not gonna say flowers and chocolates wouldn't be nice, because I'm a diva, baby, and we love being pampered. But that's not what makes a man. Sacrificing for your family, Sam, that's what makes you a man, and everybody but you knows that."

He pushed off from the car and wrapped Mercedes in a tight hug. His breath ghosted along her ear as he leaned down to say, "You're the best girlfriend I've ever had."

Mercedes felt her heart stutter in her chest. First he had told her at prom that she was beautiful, and now this. Her brain refused to function at all, except to remind her that _Quinn_ and _Santana_ were his ex-girlfriends.

"So … we can tell our friends?"

Sam's eyes shifted to the ground, and she knew that was a 'No.' She inhaled deeply and hitched a smile onto her lips. This wasn't the first time she'd waited for a boy to gain some confidence, and she didn't think it would be the last.

"Let's go get Stacy and Stevie," she said. "It's just plain tragic they've never seen _Oliver & Company _or _The Great Mouse Detective_. Honestly, they're as bad as Kurt, talking like Disney never existed before _The Little Mermaid_."

"I know. Joey Lawrence as an adorable kitten. It's like … _Whoa!_" Clearly that was some kind of impression, but Mercedes didn't know the reference. "Joey Lawrence … _Blossom_ …. So I guess that was before our time?"

"I think so?"

An hour later, they were settled in Mercedes's living room with glass bowls full of popcorn and cans of soda. Mrs. Jones popped her head in to ask if the Evanses were staying for dinner and noted with approval all three had put their cans on coasters. She gave an embarrassing thumbs up to Mercedes before retreating.

"Oh … My … God," the girl said, ducking her head. She felt Sam shaking with repressed laughter against her side.

"Wait until you meet my dad. He taught me all of my impressions."

"So you _do_ want me to meet the parents?"

Sam wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer. "Of course I do," he whispered into her hair before pressing a kiss to her neck. She giggled and batted him away, casting a significant look at his younger siblings sprawled on the carpet.

"Later," she promised.

Mercedes kept her promise, and it wasn't until after Sam left with his sleepy siblings that she realized they had never gotten back to rehearsing the sonnet. She made a vow that tomorrow she wouldn't let herself get so distracted.

**o o o**

Dinner was already on the Hudson-Hummel table when Kurt and Brittany walked into the house. The aromatic scent of Italian herbs and butter in the air could only mean that Carole had made her amazing lasagna. Sure enough, when they entered the kitchen, Finn was standing at the counter drooling over the dish of bubbling pasta while Rachel helped brush melted garlic butter over the Italian loaves. Carole caught Kurt's furrowed brow and gestured to the stove where a separate dish of much less cheesy vegetable lasagna sat. They shared a smile as Burt grunted his disapproval.

"Welcome back, kid. Want to tell me what was so important that you had to run out without a word?"

"Yeah, no kidding," Finn said, not tearing his eyes away from the lasagna. "I thought the house was on fire. Hey, Blaine, you want to play Rock Band again tonight?"

"Hi, Finn," Brittany replied. "I'd love to play Rock Band with you."

An uncomfortable silence lasted for a beat before Rachel said, "Your name is Brittany, Brittany."

Kurt explained the events of the past hour from Blaine getting his first slushie facial to Brittany and Santana joining their sleepover. A knock at the door shortly preceded Santana barging in through the front door. Blaine followed in her wake, looking apologetic, but Carole waved everyone to the table without missing a beat. After the food was dished out and a round of introductions were made, Burt brought up the uncomfortable subject on his mind.

"So … Santana and Brittany, you're staying the night?"

"Don't worry, Mr. Hummel," the blonde said innocently. "I won't make out with Kurt in his room this time."

Blaine choked on his garlic bread, Finn slapped him on the back hard enough to dislodge a lung, and Kurt turned scarlet. Blaine knew Kurt had dated a girl once, but he'd suspected Rachel or Mercedes. Definitely not Brittany. Burt managed to look amused for a minute before remembering what the kids had said last night – alluding to something intimate between the two girls.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure Kurt is over that stage. I was actually thinking that this is a lot of people to fit into two bedrooms. Why don't we rearrange the living room and have you all camp out there tonight?"

It was the most diplomatic solution he could come up with, and he prayed the presence of others would keep the couples from getting up to any funny business.

"That would be awesome," Finn said enthusiastically. "I haven't camped out in the living room since I was, like, nine. Hey! We can set up the couches so we can make a fort out of sheets."

Blaine choked on his garlic bread again. Everyone expressing their concern for him covered up the fact that Kurt was humming "Teenage Dream" into his ear.

In the end, they did not make a fort out of sheets. Kurt and Santana maintained it was too childish, although Brittany and Finn were so disappointed they almost relented. All the spare blankets and pillows in the house rested on the couches until they were ready for bed. With the couches and chairs pushed to the walls, the six teenagers had a large area to spread out and begin picking monologues and songs. Burt and Carole left to see a movie, but promised to be back by eleven.

"Do you have anything not Broadway on your iPods?" Finn asked Kurt and Rachel with an iPod in each hand.

While the others argued over which song Finn should perform – and Rachel and Kurt agreed it had to be Broadway to earn him a lead role, Santana disagreed – Blaine sat down with Brittany. Their backs leaning against the couch, they flipped through _The Complete Works of William Shakespeare_ together.

"There's actually a part that reminds me a lot of you, Britt," Blaine said. "It's Audrey from _As You Like It_. She's a sweet girl who falls in love with the boisterous jester."

"I'm bi-curious." Blaine did a double take. "That means I'm not just into boys."

He really had no response to that, nor did he even begin to understand how that admission had come out from his previous statement, so he flipped to _As You Like It_. Audrey didn't have much dialogue, but Brittany had a knack for one-liners.

"Why don't we start from here? I'll read Touchstone and Jaques's lines."

Much to Blaine's surprise, Brittany had very little trouble with the lines once he explained what they meant. She even seemed to be enjoying herself by the third time through. Her dancing and cheerleading background gave her great physicality, and they leapt up from their places to act out the scene together.

"Your features! Lord warrant us! What features!" Brittany cried, fawning over Blaine and giggling. It was such a perfect reading, he almost forgot his own lines.

"I am here with thee and thy goats," Blaine said. Kurt, Finn, Rachel, and Santana didn't look amused when he gestured to them. "As the most capricious poet, honest Ovid, was among the Goths."

Rachel rolled her eyes and went back to song selection, pulling Finn with her. Left to their bombastic interpretation of the scene, Blaine and Brittany ran around the room, jumping on the furniture and choreographing impromptu dances between their lines.

"I had no idea they'd be such a fast friends," Santana commented. She nudged Kurt. "But I guess they have similar taste in men."

Kurt pursed his lips. "I would say that Blaine is more discriminating, but I've seen Jeremiah. Seriously, though, Santana, be honest: What do you think about my song?"

"You kill every song you do, Kurt." At this annoyed glare, she gave him a real answer. "What do you want me to say? It's awesome. And since I know you know this by heart, we can talk about my song now."

They were interrupted by Blaine and Brittany, sweaty and panting from their vivacious dancing, collapsing on the floor beside them.

"Hey, do you guy think Mr. Schuester would let Brittany and I audition together?" Blaine asked.

"That would be totally cool," Brittany agreed. "We would have more room to dance on the stage, and there are all kinds of props to jump on."

"Aww," Santana cooed, linking her arm with Kurt's. "They're soul mates."

"Mr. Schue is pretty flexible," Finn said, from his place in front of the iPod dock where Rachel had practically imprisoned him.

"Yes," Rachel agreed, "but you should be aware, Blaine, that auditioning with another person may reflect poorly on your ability to carry a scene, and therefore, your potential as leading man material. Personally, as a fellow lead soloist and star-in-the-making, I would think you understood that already."

"I'm aware of all that, Rachel," Blaine said politely. "But I've also learned that a musical – and a glee club – is a collection of voices working together, not just the soloist out in front."

Rachel's jaw worked furiously. Eventually, she burst out, "How do you do it! You're incredibly talented, and yet the Warblers love you!"

"Is anyone else seriously confused by that?" Kurt asked. Brittany shook her head, and the boy gestured to her, as if that was proof that nobody should be confused.

Rachel lunged forward and slapped her palms on either side of Blaine's head. "You have to tell me how you do it!"

Kurt reached his arms around Rachel and removed her hands. "Okay, no more touching my boyfriend. Let's practice our songs before my dad and Carole get home."

Blaine and Brittany decided that they would sing a duet since they were auditioning together anyway. Rachel tried not to look scandalized by the Warbler's "team spirit" attitude. She muttered to Finn that it might not matter to Blaine because he already had a gig singing at Six Flags this summer, but leading men always auditioned alone and he shouldn't get ideas about joining her on stage.

Burt and Carole arrived home at a quarter to eleven. Judging from Burt's face, he'd expected to walk in on something untoward. Instead, he was greeted by Blaine and Brittany waltzing on the coffee table, singing their hearts out to "Sixteen Going on Seventeen." The other teenagers sat on the floor, staring up at them, clearly entertained by the performance.

"Not to rain on the parade," Burt said, after the song was over and applause had died down, "but we're heading to bed, so keep it down."

"Sure thing, Burt," Finn promised.

They turned off the iPod dock and stored away the songbooks and turned to the more challenging matter at hand: training Finn Hudson to play a lead in a Shakespeare play. They lasted until two in the morning, when Finn could hardly string together a normal sentence, much less a Shakespearean line.

"We'll work on it more tomorrow," Rachel said with a yawn.

Finn groaned as he started pulling blankets off the pile and handing them out. As they settled down into their makeshift beds on the living room floor, Kurt heard Blaine chuckle lightly.

"Oh, _boi_sterous."

When Burt woke up in the morning, he crept downstairs afraid of what he might find. All six teenagers had their clothes on, and that was something. They had clearly paired off and separated to different parts of the living room. Rachel's limbs wrapped around Finn's much larger body like an octopus; Brittany and Santana had fallen asleep facing each other, their pinkies linked; and Blaine was the little spoon in Kurt's arms.

Burt's first instinct was to make some noise and rudely wake up the boy who dared to be so intimate with his son. But then Blaine snuffled in his sleep and burrowed further back into Kurt's arms, and the look on his baby boy's face was so _content_. Burt went into the kitchen to start the coffeemaker. He was still blinking rapidly when Carole joined him five minutes later.


	3. Glee Club Death Match

**Chapter Three**  
><strong>Glee Club Death Match<strong>

_Second week of June_

Will knew he had a reputation of playing favorites, no matter how unfair he thought that accusation was, hence his decision to cast _A Mid-Summer Night's Dream_ by committee. Sitting at the table halfway up the McKinley auditorium between Emma and Shannon, he felt a little like an _American Idol_ judge.

"What am I doing here, Will?" the football coach asked, not for the first time since he'd called her last night. "I'm supposed to be making sure my students don't run over all the traffic cones or drive through the fence in the Driver's Ed practice lot. I don't trust Brenda Castle alone with twenty-three new drivers."

"If Dalton had a glee club director, I would have asked them to cast the musical with me, but they don't, so asked the two fairest teachers in this school to help me. You're both great performers too. You know what it takes to get up on stage and put yourself out there."

Shannon didn't look convinced, but Emma had helped out with glee club enough that she looked comfortable playing a part in the casting. They had agreed to hold auditions in alphabetical order, so at 9am, Emma went to call Artie onto the stage.

"We'd like you to start off with your monologue and then do your song," Will said.

The boy wheeled over to Brad at the piano to hand off his music before coming to a stop at the center of the stage. "For my monologue, I'll be performing Act III, Scene I of _Hamlet_."

The teachers listened with rapt attention as Artie delivered a powerful performance of Hamlet's soliloquy, occasionally jotting down notes. Will saw from the corner of his eye Shannon writing: "No skull" but didn't know if leaving out the infamous prop was a positive or negative mark in her opinion. Artie sang a soulful rendition of "Hallelujah" that was good, but not exactly what Will expected for a musical audition.

"Thank you, Artie. Will you send in Blaine? Huh."

"What?" Emma inquired. "Is there a problem with the list?" She had typed up the sheet with all the students listed alphabetically.

"No, I just forgot his last name wasn't actually Warbler."

There was a moment of confusion among the teachers when Brittany walked on stage. Will almost wanted to ask if she'd forgotten her name again, but Blaine followed shortly behind and explained that they had prepared a duo scene and a duet.

"That is, if that's all right?"

"That will be fine."

Truthfully, Will was surprised a lead soloist like Blaine would be willing to share the spotlight. He had assumed the Warbler was a male version of Rachel Berry, and he would sooner expect a stampede of wild oxen to storm the stage than Rachel Berry audition with a partner. Sharing the stage did nothing to diminish Blaine's stage presence. He was every bit as charismatic as during glee club competitions, and Will had to admit Brittany killed Audrey's part. He felt Shannon's shoulders shaking with laughter, and Emma had a hand pressed over her mouth to stifle her giggles.

"That's going to be tough to follow," Shannon said breathlessly, dabbing at her eyes, after Blaine and Brittany left the stage.

Fortunately, Rachel walked onto the stage next determined to upstage the three students before her and everyone who came after. Her recitation of Juliet's death scene was as melodramatic as Will expected of the glee club star, but she sang "Glitter and Be Gay" flawlessly.

Mike and Tina did well, separately. Mike sang better than he ever had before, but Will didn't think he quite had the skill to carry a major part. His acting, though, was an unexpected surprise. Tina, however, he marked down as a potential lead. She didn't demand as much attention in glee club as the other girls because of her shy personality, but that didn't mean she wasn't a star too.

Blaine wasn't the only Warbler to partner up for his audition. When Nick Duval came in for his audition, he was followed by Thad, Jeff, and Flint. The four boys took their places in a semi-circle at center stage, but before they could begin, Shannon held up a hand.

"Question. Are Warblers incapable of doing anything alone? Have we even seen a solo Warbler yet?"

The young men on stage grinned widely, not at all perturbed by the question. It was Nick who answered. "Well, ma'am, we wouldn't be a good acapella group if we didn't have a certain affinity for team work."

Shannon huffed, but Will could plainly see that the football coach liked his answer. "All right. Go ahead."

Nick, Jeff, Thad, and Flint bowed their heads with their clasped hands in front of themselves for several seconds, as if they were waiting for the timing count before breaking into song. In unison, they snapped into deformed positions and scuttled around the stage like hunchbacked old ladies.

"When shall we three meet again / In thunder, lightening, or rain?" Nick croaked.

"When the hurlyburly's done, / When the battle's lost and won," Jeff replied, his voice shivering just the right amount.

"That will be ere the set of sun," Thad said.

The boys played out the complete opening scene of _Macbeth_ as the three witches (switching up some lines so they all spoke). Their antics both amused and impressed the teachers, who hardly tore their eyes away from the sinister scene taking place on the stage to make notes. It wasn't often teenage boys could transform themselves into haggard crones without the aid of props or makeup or costumes.

At the end of the scene, they reassembled at center stage. "For our musical performance, we'll be singing "Boil, Boil, Toil, and Trouble" from the film _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_," Jeff announced.

Will couldn't suppress his laughter as Brad played the opening notes and the boys launched into a perfect four-part harmony, with all of their voices contained in the tenor range, save Jeff who slipped easily into falsetto to handle the mezzo-soprano part.

"Your glee kids have competition, Will," Shannon stated.

"Where does Dalton find these boys?" Emma wondered, still grinning widely. "They're not like Vocal Adrenaline, are they? Cheating by failing their students and breaking several laws by forcing children to rehearse until midnight?"

"Actually, no," Will said. "They're just honest-to-god talented. And insanely popular, according to Kurt. But I guess that's what a good performing arts budget and active booster club will get you."

Sam auditioned next with a sonnet, for a change of pace. All three teachers knew about his dyslexia from school records, but only Will had graded his papers. He knew just how hard Sam must have worked at his monologue. He sent Sam away with a genuine compliment and asked him to send in Quinn.

The former cheerleader arrived on stage with a determined stride, handed off her sheet music to Brad, and came to center stage. Clearly, word had gotten around in the hallway that songs followed monologues because Will hadn't had to tell the last three students.

"For my monologue, I will be performing the opening scene of _Richard III_." Quinn bowed her head for a moment to get into character. When she looked up at her teachers, all traces of Quinn Fabray had gone from her face. She was leering as she spoke.

"Now is the winter of our discontent / Made glorious summer by this sun of York." As she continued, she paced the stage with decided steps, always looking directly at the teachers, her face flickering between disdain and false innocence. "I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion, / Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, / Deformed, unfinish'd, sent before my time / Into this breathing world, scarce half made up …"

Will couldn't help but remember the posters that had appeared around Prom and the words on Quinn's shirt during _Born This Way_. Quinn hadn't disappeared into character; they were seeing a side of Quinn she hid from the world. A shudder passed up his spine to see plainly how this beautiful, talented girl saw herself.

The atmosphere in the auditorium was grim and tense when Quinn left. Will didn't envy Kurt, who flounced onto the stage with confidence. If he sensed the teachers' unease, he didn't let it affect him in the least. He smiled easily at them, bouncing on his toes as he explained he would be doing a monologue from _Twelfth Night_.

"M, O, A, I." The wonderment and hope playing on Kurt's face brought Will to attention. "This simulation is not as the former: and yet, to crush this a little, it would bow to me, for every one of these letters are in my name. Soft! here follows prose …."

Kurt had hardly moved from center stage while he read the letter planted for Malvolio, but he dropped his hands to let the teachers know his monologue had ended. In a matter of lines, he had transformed the atmosphere in the auditorium. But Will also knew that Kurt's monologue was just the beginning of a long, cruel joke played on the character that made him look the fool in front of the entire court. Again, he was reminded of how much emotion his students had tapped into for these auditions, and he was blown away by their courage.

"And now, for my song selection." Kurt nodded to Brad, who began the song. The countertenor launched into the song with every bit of light-hearted enthusiasm he had poured into his monologue.

"_Whenever I see someone __less fortunate than I__  
><em>_(And let's face it - who isn't __less fortunate than I?)__  
><em>_My tender heart __tends to start to bleed__  
><em>_And when someone needs a makeover__ I simply have to take over"_

Will's smile broadened, and he saw Emma beaming from the corner of his eye. Kurt danced easily around the stage, singing sometimes to an invisible stage partner and sometimes to Brad. The accompanist's displeasure at the kids singing to him only increased Kurt's performance of the song.

"_Popular! __You're gonna be popular!__  
><em>_I'll teach you the proper ploys __when you talk to boys__  
><em>_Little ways to flirt and flounce__  
><em>_I'll show you what shoes to wear,__how to fix your hair__  
><em>_Everything that really counts"_

At the finale, Kurt came back to center stage, beamed at the teachers, and gave a capricious bow.

"Thank you, Kurt," Will chuckled.

After Kurt left the stage, Mike and Tina arrived with sandwiches and drinks for the teachers, who hadn't even realized lunchtime had come and gone already. Emma elected to eat the food she had packed, so Shannon and Will split the remaining sandwich. After their brief lunch break, Emma went to call in Finn.

When Finn walked in, he offered a nervous smile to the teachers while handing over his music to Brad. At center stage, he shifted his weight around from right to left foot several times and took a few deep breaths before throwing his arms into the air.

"Thou, Nature, art my goddess!"

Will's eyebrows arched dramatically. He had only one thought: who in God's name picked this monologue for Finn? There was no way the football player had chosen the main villain from _King Lear_ himself. Will knew they didn't even teach that play in McKinley English classes. Kurt's own selection proved that he knew how to select appropriate audition material for a comedy, which left Rachel as the primary culprit. Despite the poorly selected monologue, Finn's delivery of the lines fit the Edmund character pretty well, and it was so opposite of Finn's own personality as to prove he could act.

Almost as soon as Finn left the stage, a Warbler called Cameron took the stage. He performed a section of _Twelfth Night_, but Will couldn't place the speech. Beside him, Shannon looked equally perplexed. It was Emma who recognized it, and said after Cameron left the stage:

"Those Dalton boys don't mind gender-bending, do they?" At their confused stares, she explained. "Viola gives that speech in the play."

"So, he's a boy, dressed as a boy, pretending to be a girl, dressed as a boy?" Shannon clarified.

Emma worked it out in her head. "Yes."

Another Warbler by the name Richard James, whom Will remembered was the beat boxer, auditioned next with a well-delivered monologue, but his solo was poorly selected for his vocal range. Mercedes sauntered on stage next with the opposite problem. Her Lady Macbeth sounded like she was reciting from memory, not acting.

When Santana arrived for her audition, she flipped her hair back in her typical sassy manner and launched into a monologue from _The Taming of the Shrew_ with such ferocity in her voice, Will actually pressed himself further back into his chair. Emma's eyes had gone perfectly round sometime during the tirade/monologue, but Shannon was belly laughing.

"And now for my song," Santana said sweetly. She gave a soulful rendition of "The Best Night of My Life" from _Applause_ that had Will smirking, laughing, and wondering how Kurt had talked her into it, because he didn't think anyone else could have gotten her to sing it.

"What's wrong with you, Will?" Shannon demanded, when Santana had left the stage. "You didn't laugh at all during the performance, but you're cracking up over that beautiful song?"

Will didn't have time to explain the hilarity of the song choice before the Head Warbler, Wes Montgomery, took the stage. He politely explained that he would be performing a selection from _A Comedy of Errors_, which he proceeded to do with gusto. But it was his performance of "Ya Got Trouble" that truly captured Will's attention, and Emma's too judging by her tapping feet under the table. Will had overheard some of the Warblers talking about Wes's scholarship to the Tisch School of the Arts, and now he had proof the young man had the potential to go far as a performer.

The next student was also a Warbler: David Thompson. "May I ask if you would be willing to read lines with me for this scene?" he asked, in that polite prep school manner.

"Of course." Will had been surprised none of the other students had asked for that yet. He scanned the pages David handed him as the boy made his way back to the stage. "I assume I'll be reading the Fool's lines?"

"If you wouldn't mind, sir." The McKinley teachers did a double take. None of their students had ever addressed them so respectfully before. It sounded surreal.

"Umm … not at all." Will cleared his throat before loudly reciting, "If a man's brains were in's heels, were't not in danger of kibes."

David sighed deeply and sank down onto the edge of the stage, the very image of a weary old man beaten down by the cruelty of the world. "Ah, boy."

Curiously, David had very little to say in this scene. Will patiently read the lines with the young man, aware that, in a gutsy move, he had chosen to highlight his acting ability on just a few seminal lines at the end of the scene.

"O, let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heaven, / Keep me in temper: I would not be mad." The heartbreak in David's voice and tragic expression sold the scene.

The last audition of the day ended up being one of the most memorable. When Lauren came in for her turn, Puck trailed after her. He had been conspicuously absent when his name was called earlier in the list, but strutted in unperturbed about missing his own audition.

"For our monologue, we'll be performing Act III Scene III from _A Winter's Tale_," Lauren explained, "which ends with the infamous stage direction: Exit, pursued by a bear."

"Okay, great," Will said. He remembered that stage direction from his college literature course, but he honestly had no idea which characters were chased or why. It turned out, he didn't need to know.

Lauren raised her arms and made claws with her fingers, Puck stared for a beat, and then turned and fled off the stage. He ran up the right wing of the auditorium with Lauren thundering after him. After ducking through the fifth row seats and up the center stairs, they ran out the backdoor without bothering to perform a song.

**o o o**

While Mr. Schuester, Miss Pillsbury, and Coach Beiste sat in on the students' auditions, the members of New Directions and the Warblers congregated in the hallway around the stage left door. With everyone in their day clothes, it was difficult to tell McKinley from Dalton students at a distance. They all started out sitting along the wall with scripts and songbooks in their laps, but as the day wore on and the floor become more uncomfortable they migrated to lying on the handicap ramp, leaning against the railing, the tables just outside the door, and the strip of grass between parking lot and receiving area.

"How did it go?" Kurt demanded, the instant Blaine and Brittany exited the stage. Their bright smiles were answer enough. "Okay, okay. Now you have to help me prepare. I have no idea why I didn't practice more!"

"Kurt," Blaine said, laughing gently, "you practiced for _hours_ yesterday. You're ready for this. But if you're not comfortable, I'll listen to your lines again. Or we can go to the choir room, and I'll play the music for your song."

The taller boy flushed. "Okay. But we have to wait for Rachel to finish. She'll kill me if she finds out I wasn't here to spiritually support her during her audition."

Rachel emerged from the stage ten minutes later looking exuberant and rushed over to Finn to tell him about her audition in minute detail. Blaine took that as permission for him and Kurt to leave. Taking his boyfriend's hand, he led them outside to the patch of grass overlooking the full parking lot. A gentle breeze offset the sticky heat. Blaine plopped down onto the grass and held out his arms.

"I am your captive audience, Mr. Hummel."

Kurt preened for a moment before holding out his script, silently asking Blaine to double check he said the lines correctly. He took a breath to start the monologue, but closed his mouth as soon as he'd opened it. Blaine peered over his shoulder to see what had distracted Kurt. Dave Karofsky crossed the parking lot, his fists shoved into his pockets and his eyes darting furtively. The raven-haired boy climbed to his feet as Karofsky stopped just short of the line between grass and asphalt.

"I, uh … I'm sorry, Blaine." The jock squinted against the sun to make eye contact. The use of his name shocked Blaine more than the apology. "I tried – I should have tried harder to stop Azimio."

Blaine felt Kurt peering at him intensely, and he had to force himself to look straight at Karofsky. He knew what he had to say. He would have to accept the apology despite his anger over the slushie facial. He couldn't take out his frustration and humiliation on Karofsky because that would destroy the tenuous truce. It wasn't fair, but it was life. He would always have to be the bigger man to show ignorant people that gays could be decent people.

"You can't control your friends, Dave. You didn't throw the slushie; you don't have to apologize to me."

Karofsky scuffed the toe of his sneaker along a painted white line on the blacktop and hunched his shoulders. "Maybe not. But there are other things I've done and said that I do have to apologize for."

From the corner of his eye, Blaine saw Kurt's fingers twitch, almost as if he wanted to reach out and take his hand to ease some of the tension wafting from his rigid body. Blaine felt grateful his boyfriend refrained from touching him just then. Kurt had made his peace with Karofsky, but Blaine hadn't yet.

"Thank you."

Karofsky understood the simple statement as an acceptance of the apology and began backing off immediately. When Blaine finally turned to Kurt, he saw a slight frown marring his lips.

"Blaine," there was a disappointed note in his voice.

"Don't, Kurt," he warned. "I accepted his apology, okay? It's the best I can do. He hurt the man I love. I'm never going to be friends with the guy."

The displeasure on Kurt's face melted away, and he pulled Blaine into a tight hug. Their lips found each other briefly, both boys acutely aware of their public location, before Kurt sank onto the grass – risking stains to his electric blue pants – and pulled Blaine down with him. They sat with their legs almost touching.

"Well," Kurt said, "at least one good thing came from your first slushie facial. Or should I say two good things?"

"Two?"

Blue-green eyes flicked up to Blaine's tamed hair and his cheeks flamed scarlet. "I finally got to see what's beneath the gel."

"Yeah, uh, I promise I won't make you see me like that again. It's just that we had to wash the slushie out of my hair, and then Brittany made me promise …." He trailed off, noting the frown had returned to Kurt's lips. "What, Kurt?" Blaine sounded the slightest bit annoyed now.

The breath Kurt took before answering reminded Blaine of when Kurt had confessed his feelings in the Lima Bean back in February. He sensed Kurt was steeling himself to say something important, but he never expected what came next.

"You're very handsome with the dapper hairstyle, and I love the way you look, Blaine. But the curly hair and the glasses … I almost couldn't keep my hands off you when I saw you like that. I spent all night wondering if my dad would notice if we snuck up to my room."

Blaine felt his heart treble its tempo and breathing suddenly became very difficult. "Oh! I … could let my hair go natural the next time we're together?"

Kurt grinned in a way Blaine could only describe as coquettishly. "But only if my parents aren't home."

Blaine's oh-so-eloquent response sounded something like 'guh.'

**o o o**

A little after noon, after Finn's complaints of hunger were echoed by a majority of the Warblers, a collection was taken up and Mike and Tina went to get sandwiches. Kurt was too nervous to think about food and tried to pass altogether, but Blaine ordered for him. The couple was gone for a good hour, which led to several jokes at their expense when they returned with over thirty sub sandwiches.

Rachel hardly looked up from listening to Luke recite his monologue when Tina thrust a vegetarian wrap under her nose. "That's very good, but you should concentrate on the stresses more. Really emphasize the meter, like a song."

The Warbler, who hadn't asked for her help in the first place, looked taken aback by the petite girl's forwardness. Santana rolled her eyes and made an 'ignore her' gesture behind Rachel's back. Luke fought off a smile, but Richard and Nick on either side didn't do so well. Rachel spun around.

"Funny how you weren't dismissing me yesterday when you couldn't pronounce your rhyming couplets with the correct accent," Rachel snapped.

Santana made to retort, but Quinn interjected. "Rachel Berry helping the competition? Well, there is a first for everything."

The lead singer shook her hair back. "I wouldn't say Santana and I are in competition."

The Latina girl took the slight exactly as it had been intended and dove at Rachel. Finn just barely got in between the two girls, and he struggled to hold Santana back until Puck took pity on him and stepped up to help escort Santana outside where she could cool off.

Nick glanced around at the New Directions members who quickly settled back into their conversations and tucked into their lunches. The Warblers gaped open-mouthed at the spectacle. Rumor had it that a fight had broken out in a Warblers meeting seven years ago that had resulted in their lead soloist needing stitches, but no one had yet confirmed it.

"Wow … this club is seriously dysfunctional," Nick commented to Jeff, who nodded his agreement.

"And your club is seriously repressed."

Nick turned to see Quinn gazing at him with an arched brow and hands on her hips. "We prefer to call it urbane."

The blonde shook her head. "Semantics."

The Warbler didn't say it aloud, but after the meeting on Friday, he was surprised anyone at this school – Kurt excluded – would know the meaning of urbane, much less follow it up with an intelligent and appropriate response. He beamed at her.

"Well, I do need to practice using my SAT words."

"How about this one: obviate."

Quinn spun on her heel and walked away, but Nick swore there was a spring in her step. If he was a betting man, he'd say she was smiling too.

"Pretentious?" he called after her.

"Discerning," was her over-the-shoulder reply.

"Besotted," Jeff sighed, leaning his head on his best friend's shoulder and blinking doe-eyes at Nick. The dark-haired boy shoved him off, but he'd attracted the attention of several of his fellow Warblers, who kept up the joking.

**o o o**

When the last audition was complete, Will appeared at the stage left door to tell everyone how well they had done and that the cast would be announced the following morning. As the students drifted away from the auditorium to their cars, the teachers drove separately to Will's apartment for dinner and casting discussion.

"The Warblers have some really talented members," Emma said, flipping through her notebook. "Their auditions were some of most memorable."

The glee club director sighed lightly and glanced between Emma and Shannon. "Does it make me a terrible teacher that I'm kind of disappointed about that? I really hoped to spotlight all my kids."

"Of course not, Will." Shannon set down her fork to answer. "They're your team. Think of this like tryouts for a new season. I always want last year's team back, but if a new guy can give the team an edge, he gets a spot."

"You're right. This has to be about what's best for the performance. Okay, let's start with the role of Puck. I don't know about you, but I cast this part the moment I heard …."

The three teachers talked long into the night, casting and recasting the roles in _A Mid-Summer Night's Dream_ until they produced a dramatis personae at two in the morning that all three agreed was a solid cast for the musical.

**o o o**

New Directions and the Warblers reconvened in the McKinley choir room on Tuesday morning looking excited and apprehensive each in their own way. Wes had smuggled his gavel in today, Santana threw bitchy glares at anyone who breathed too loudly, Rachel kept up a constant stream of irritating self-involvement, and Kurt's outfit took high fashion to the extreme.

"You have nothing to worry about," Blaine said, taking his boyfriend's hand. Next to the couple, Finn nodded automatically at Rachel's breathless diatribe. "Uh huh, but I know you did great, Rachel."

Mr. Schuester arrived right on time carrying a stack of scripts. As he passed under the air conditioning vent, the script on top fluttered open to show that parts had already been highlighted. Tension ran high in the room as the teacher set down the scripts on the piano.

"First, let me say that you all did really well yesterday. I'm truly impressed by the amazing talent we have in this room."

Santana ruined the moment by demanding he get on with it already. The teenagers basking in the praise or acknowledging it humbly with a smile sent her scathing glares. Not that it fazed her at all. She stared intently at Mr. Schue until he conceded.

"Okay. First up we have Puck – "

"Hell yeah, bitches," Puck said. "And you all thought Berry was going to get the lead." Beside him, Lauren shook her head sadly and patted his head in a condescending manner.

"Actually," Mr. Schue continued, "I'm referring to the character called Puck. Now, he has fewer lines than the other leads, but a lot more songs in this adaptation. Plus, he's the heart of the whole play, the reason there even is a play. Congratulations, you're our star, Kurt."

The boy sucked in a breath before allowing a toothless smile to spread over his lips. As he returned to his seat with the script clutched to his chest, Kurt marveled at the pride showing in his friends' faces. When he slid into his seat and balanced the script on his lap, Blaine and Rachel on either side of him grabbed his hands.

"The main conflict includes four Athenians, two couples. Hermia – who will be played by Rachel –is being pressured to marry Demetrius – Finn – but she's actually in love with her childhood friend Lysander – that would be you, Blaine. Helena is in love with Demetrius, who left her for Hermia. Quinn, I'd like you to play that role."

Those in the room who understood the play well enough to follow Mr. Schue's simplified summary and knew the romantic history of New Directions didn't blame Quinn for the angry frown marring her lips.

"I feel so bad for her," Mike said lowly while the scripts were passed out to the four leads. Tina nodded emphatically. The curious Warblers tried to catch Kurt's eye, but he looked resolutely forward, his face displaying all the happiness he felt for Blaine, Rachel, and his brother (even if he was shocked Mr. Schue trusted Finn with a lead).

"The play's setting is the wedding of King Theseus and Queen Hippolyta," Mr. Schuester said, taking up the summary again. "Those parts will be played by David and Santana." The Warblers congratulated their Council member as he made his way down the risers. "Richard, I'd like you to play Hermia's father, Egeus. Mike, you'll be Philostrate."

"Next we have Oberon and Titania. Everything gets turned on its head because the King and Queen of the Fairies are fighting."

Kurt braced himself for the obvious jokes that would have been inevitable just six months ago, but it never came. He supposed that meant they would also skip the jokes when Mr. Schue assigned the role of Bottom.

"Artie and Tina, those will be your roles. Now, there's a play within a play, and The Mechanicals are the actors. Because Puck puts a love potion in Titania's eyes, she falls in love with Nick Bottom – that's you, Wes."

"Oh man, I can't wait to see Wes in donkey ears," Nick quipped. On his way to the front of the room, Wes lashed out at the other boy's knee causing him to gasp in pain. "Yeah, I'll be very happy when Blaine owns that gavel."

Mr. Schue didn't seem to notice the commotion. "As for the other actors: Nick, you'll play Peter; Jeff, you'll be Francis; Flint will play Tom; Sam, you'll be Snug, and Thad will be Robin." The teacher finally noticed Nick's limp when he shuffled to the front of the room. "Are you all right, Nick?"

"No thanks to an incredibly mature Council member."

"Right. Well, that leaves Titania's fairy servants: Brittany and Mercedes. There are actually supposed to be four of you, but we can combine lines and get by with two."

"Why?" Cameron questioned. "If there are two more roles, shouldn't you assign them? I'd be a kick ass fairy."

"Me too," James added.

Even Kurt and Blaine couldn't suppress their amusement.

"They're both excellent falsettists," Wes said. "They've taken over Kurt's parts in our arrangements."

Mr. Schue looked genuinely taken aback, but agreed by holding out two scripts for the boys. "We'll probably have to rearrange the songs for your voices, but I guess you Warblers are old hands at that." The teacher looked at the whole group again. "Okay, so, the rest of you are the Chorus. You don't have any speaking parts, but you will have plenty of songs and stage time."

With all of the remaining scripts handed out, the conversation turned next to a rehearsal schedule. Mr. Schuester had booked the auditorium every day from 10 – 4, but he knew most of his cast had other commitments: summer jobs or performances. He asked for their work or performance schedules by the end of the week before dismissing them.

"I'll see you all tomorrow at 10am when we'll start talking about _A Mid-Summer Night's Dream_. Your homework for tonight: read a summary of the play and about your character. Come prepared tomorrow with at least one question we can discuss together."

**o o o**

_**A Mid-Summer Night's Dream**_** by William Shakespeare**  
>adapted with music and lyrics<p>

**STARRING**

Kurt Hummel as PUCK, a fairy

**AND IN SUPPORTING ROLES**

_The Athenians: _  
>Rachel Berry as HERMIA, a young woman<br>Blaine Anderson as LYSANDER, a young man  
>Quinn Fabray as HELENA, a young woman<br>Finn Hudson as DEMETRIUS, a young man  
>David Thompson as THESEUS, King of Athens<br>Santana Lopez as HIPPOLYTA, Queen of the Amazons  
>Richard James as EGEUS, Hermia's father<br>Mike Chang as PHILOSTRATE, Master of Revels

_The Fairies:_  
>Artie Abrams as OBERON, King of the Fairies<br>Tina Cohen-Chang as TITANIA, Queen of the Fairies  
>Brittany S. Pierce as MUSTARDSEED, Titania's fairy maid<br>Cameron James as PEASEBLOSSOM, Titania's fairy maid  
>Mercedes Jones as COBWEB, Titania's fairy maid<br>James Kirk as MOTH, Titania's fairy maid

_The Mechanicals, players:_  
>Wes Montgomery as NICK BOTTOM<br>Nick Duval as PETER QUINCE  
>Jeff S. Sterling as FRANCIS FLUTE<br>Flint Wilson as TOM SNOUT  
>Thad Harwood as ROBIN STARVELING<br>Sam Evans as SNUG

_The Chorus:_  
>John Dempsey<br>Nicholas Hudson  
>Jesse L. Martin<br>Ethan Moore  
>Trent Nixon<br>Noah Puckerman  
>Andrew Stuart<br>Luke Wright  
>Lauren Zizes<p>

_Crew:_  
>Will Schuester, director<br>Mike Chang, choreography  
>Brittany S. Pierce, choreography<br>Emma Pillsbury, wardrobe  
>Jesse L. Martin, set design<br>Trent Nixon, set design


	4. Like New Directions in Blazers

**Author's Note:** The full cast list can be found here (remove the spaces): h t t p : / / arainymonday . wordpress . com / 2011 / 07 / 05 / a-fine-frenzy-cast-list

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Four<strong>  
><strong>Like New Directions in Blazers<strong>

_Third week of June_

After reviewing the summer schedules of the students involved in staging _A Mid-Summer Night's Dream_, Mr. Schuester was forced to drastically scale back the rehearsal schedule to twice a week. Nick had nearly laughed out loud at the McKinley teacher's expression when he saw the list of Warblers' performance commitments; he had looked every bit as anxious as during their Sectionals performance.

The entire group was performing twice daily at King's Island over the weekend preceding July 4th, and that was on top of various charity and alumni events scattered throughout the summer. Plus, there was Blaine's five shows at Six Flags St. Louis, Wes's role as Gawain in _Camelot _atthe Ohio Repertory Theater, Thad's weekly set at the French restaurant in Dayton, and Cameron and Jeff's band gigs.

Clearly, New Directions didn't value professional – or semi-professional, as the case may be – performances as highly as the Warblers.

"It's a good thing we have a couple months to prepare," Mr. Schuester said, passing around the performance schedule. "But I don't want you guys to get complacent. We have a lot of work to do, so I need you all to stay focused on the material."

Nick had found the first two "rehearsals" completely pointless summaries and character analysis that he'd already learned in English class. He suspected only the sophomore Warblers gleaned any new information from the lectures, but the Council had made it absolutely clear they were to still pay attention and participate. He was eager to get on with today's rehearsal: the table read.

The cast had gathered in the cushioned McKinley auditorium seats to begin the rehearsal, but now the teacher ushered the cast onto the stage. Many smaller tables had been pushed together to create a hollow square, and paper placards directed the cast into the appropriate seats. Nick took his place between Wes and Jeff and found himself directly opposite Quinn. He flashed her a charming smile, but she didn't see, she was so caught up in staring disconcertingly at her highlighted and annotated script.

"Okay," Mr. Schuester said, with a clap of the hands. "Today is the table read. It's like a dry run before we start rehearsals on stage. Everyone with a speaking part reads their lines together so we can start to get a feel for the script as a whole. I know we haven't practiced dialogue or songs yet, but a table read doesn't have to be perfect. Just do your best with the lines and sight read the music, okay?"

The teacher checked to make sure the accompanist was ready on the piano. The full band hadn't been assembled for the table read, but Brad was on hand to play a simplified version of the music for the actors. When he was confident the reading could begin, Mr. Schuester assumed his role as director.

"Act I Scene I. Athens. The Palace of Theseus," the teacher read.

A soft melody began on the piano, and a collection of voices from the Chorus at the end of the table entered, beginning the musical's overture. As the music progressed to a sweeping crescendo, Kurt opened the musical with the first solo – an impish, playful prologue introducing the audience to their capricious starring character.

Nick found himself drifting away from the script to watch Kurt. The countertenor's brow furrowed slightly as he sight read the brand new music. The consternation either came from the difficulty of the music (and it was far more complex than any pop song in the Warblers' repertoire) or the fact that the song was clearly written for a tenor and did nothing to highlight Kurt's unique vocal range. Nick was so caught up in Kurt's solo that the abrupt change to David's rumbling dialogue made him start, and he didn't catch up in the script until Santana started her reply in a strong, growling voice perfect for an Amazon Queen.

"Four days will quickly steep themselves in night; / Four nights will quickly dream away the time; / And then the moon, like to a silver bow / New-bent in heaven, shall behold the night / Of our solemnities."

The cast read through Scene I without much incident. David, Santana, Richard, Rachel, and Blaine performed their parts well, but in Nick's opinion, Quinn stole the scene with the ending speech. At least, in voice. When he glanced over the top of his script, he saw that her face held none of the vulnerability or hurt he would have expected of Helena. She looked resolutely angry. But it was only the table read, Nick reminded himself.

"But herein mean I to enrich my pain, / To have his sight thither and back again," Quinn concluded.

"Scene II," Mr. Schuester said, after the briefest pause, "Athens. Quince's house."

Nick started again and scrambled to flip the page in his script as Brad began playing the piano again. The first line of The Mechanical's song (a typical 'talky' piece) belonged to him, and was quickly answered by Wes. Jeff sent a ripple of laughter around the table with his character voice. He expressed Francis, a teenage boy chosen to play a girl's part in the play-within-a-play, perfectly with his cracking voice.

Overall, Nick was pleased with the way Wes, Jeff, Flint, Thad, and Sam had chosen to read their characters. They would need a lot of finesse before they could successfully back up Wes's comic relief, but he thought they were off to a good start. It didn't hurt that they were mainly Warblers and had all been friends for three years. As the table read shifted into Act II with Kurt, Artie, Tina, and The Chorus setting the stage for the fairies, Nick made a note to invite Sam over to hang out with them sometime soon. He knew from experience that the best performances came from a united team.

The first hint of a problem appeared toward the end of Act II when the number of Finn's lines started to increase. He read the words well enough, but he couldn't keep pace with Quinn's capable performance. Truthfully, New Direction's lead male seemed dim-witted (not to mention less talented than other male voices in the glee club) to Nick, and he wondered if the Warblers' fear of favoritism didn't have some merit after all.

He glanced sidelong at Wes and Jeff. The former stared resolutely at his script, but Nick's best friend arched his eyebrows delicately. They were on the same page then. Surreptitiously, Nick texted under the table.

_Seriously, did Kurt get all the talent genes? –Nick _

_Step-brothers. And your obsession with Kurt makes me wonder … –Jeff_

_Anyone with ears is obsessed with Kurt. –Nick_

_So your ears are gay? –Jeff_

_Only gay for Kurt. –Nick _

"Act III. Scene I. The wood. Titania lying asleep," Mr. Schuester announced.

In his rush to turn the many neglected pages of his script, Nick dropped his phone with text on the screen. It hit the stage with a dull thud in the same moment Wes finished his line and rolled once so that it was just beyond the reach of Nick's foot. Mr. Schuester was distracted long enough trying to figure out where the sound came from for Nick to find his place and say his lines. While The Mechanicals read through their scene, another pair of eyes read Nick's unsent text on the illuminated screen.

When Mr. Schuester called for a break where there would be an intermission during the performance, Nick retrieved his phone, finished sending the text to Jeff, and jogged off stage to get water from the vending machine.

He didn't notice the hostile glare directed at the back of his head.

**o o o**

Quinn bolted from the reading table the moment Mr. Schue excused the cast for a short break. She felt a terrible weight on her chest constricting her breathing as she pushed open the outside door. Sucking in a lungful of sticky, sultry air did nothing to help ease the crushing sensation. She didn't realize tears ran down her cheeks until the creaking of the door disturbed her private moment.

"Quinn?"

Hastily, she brushed away the tear tracks and took a steadying breath before turning around to find the speaker of the almost familiar voice. Nick hovered in the shade provided by the awning with a bottle of water clutched loosely in his left hand. Through her glassy eyes, he looked a little blurry around the edges. Quinn had the insane idea that she was in a real life GAP ad with him in his khakis and polo shirt and she in her sundress.

"I didn't mean to intrude. I saw you standing out here and wanted to make sure you were okay."

Quinn blinked at him for a moment, wondering at what point he was going to turn and flee from the crying girl. But he didn't leave. He stood there in the half-shade with the cold plastic bottle sweating and dripping onto the concrete waiting for her to answer. He didn't depart even after she issued a standard, unconvincing, "I'm fine," in a breathy, distracted voice.

As a beautiful, popular girl, Quinn always noticed handsome, popular boys. She had noticed Nick as soon as he entered the choir room almost two weeks ago. Clearly, Blaine was their leader, but Nick was popular too; she saw that right away. The way he walked in the center of the group made the other boys seem like the gravitated towards and rotated around him. All the Warblers talked to him, even from two risers away, and easily added him into whichever conversation he wanted to join.

But he was different from the boys she had dated before – all of them cute but dim football players. He was smaller – eye level with Quinn – and slender too. He'd proven he was quick-witted, and given that he went to Dalton, probably rich to boot.

"Yeah, I'm not really buying that," Nick said honestly. He checked his watch. "And we have exactly seven minutes left on break, so if you want to talk, now's the time. Or I can go get one of your friends for you."

She shook her head, only partly because she didn't want Brittany or Santana or Mercedes right now. Mostly, though, she couldn't believe how dapper these Dalton boys really were. She'd heard Mercedes use the word constantly to describe Blaine and had found it a somewhat ridiculous way to describe a teenage boy. Yet here was proof that that adjective could apply.

"Dapper," she breathed, with a laugh caught in her voice.

"Oh, so we're continuing with the one word back-and-forth? If I'd known, I would have began with something more impressive. Disconsolate?"

"Maybe that's a little intense," she replied, but with a smile. "I'm … reflective. The material we're reading, it's getting to me a little. I see a lot of myself in Helena, and I'm angry at Mr. Schue for assigning me that role."

Nick's brow furrowed, and Quinn wondered if he was assessing her and coming to all the right conclusions: desperate for a boyfriend, rejected by her love, insecure about her appearance.

He used his palm to wipe off the sweat accumulated on the outside of the water bottle and held it out to her. She held up her hands to say she couldn't take his water, but he was insistent, so she took a drink at last.

"Better? A drink of cold water always helps me when I'm upset. I don't know why, but I find it easier to act the part after I've had a drink of water."

Quinn didn't think he meant acting as in performing, and it intrigued her. She took a step towards him, under the guise of moving into the shade, but really she wanted to see this boy close up, to see if he was real, because she didn't think he could be.

"Yeah, actually, I do feel a little better."

"Think you can go in there and finish the second half?"

She shrugged. "I don't really have a choice, do I? I could be like Rachel and storm out in a huff because I don't like my role, but it wouldn't do any good. It would only draw attention to what no one was supposed to see."

"That's my philosophy too. I had to learn it the hard way." He grimaced at some memory he didn't share.

"So did I."

A crowd of bodies heading back into the auditorium moved past the glass panel in the doors. Nick checked his watch again. They had used up six of their seven minutes already. Gently, Quinn took his wrist and twisted to check the time herself. She felt Nick staring down at the top of her bent head and took a few seconds longer than necessary, giving him a chance to feast his eyes on the perfection of her skin and gentle curve of her facial features. Then she stepped away and moved to the door.

"And Nick?" she said quietly, glancing over her shoulder. "You might want to follow along in the script this time instead of watching me."

Nick flushed red at having been caught out. She flashed him a smile as she went back into the school.

**o o o**

New Directions and the Warblers reconvened after a fifteen minute break. Nick and Quinn were the last ones back at the table. They sat down just as Mr. Schuester read the opening for Act IV. The table read of the second half of the musical did not go as smoothly as the first. A brief fifteen minutes had shattered the casts' focus.

Brittany, Mercedes, Cameron, and James made a huge mess of the fairies' song. It was complex, with a lot of back and forth, plus James couldn't hit the higher soprano notes, even with his falsetto. They might have recovered but for the disastrous duet between Artie and Kurt. The notes in his part dipped so low into the baritone range Kurt struggled to manage them.

David and Santana salvaged the table read somewhat with their fierce, dynamic characters, but the momentum was somewhat lost again with Finn's entrance into the scene. Even Nick had to admit The Mechanicals didn't do such a fantastic job in Scene II. Nick convoluted his lines and messed up the meter.

Mr. Schuester announced, "Act V Scene I. Athens. The palace of Theseus" with a sigh caught in his voice. The final act of the musical came back to life with Mike's enthusiastic reading of Philostrate. Nick, eager to outshine a minor character, put everything he had into Quince's lines. The other Mechanicals, following his lead, read their lines with gusto. Jeff, again, brought laughter to the table using his squeaky boy-pretending-to-be-a-girl voice.

As the music for the epilogue began, all eyes turned towards Kurt. The brunette tried to hide a sigh as he sight read the music in the final pages of his songbook. He sang the tenor melody beautifully, but without much emotion:

"_I__f we shadows have offended,__  
><em>_Think but this, and all is mended,__  
><em>_That you have but slumber'd here__  
><em>_While these visions did appear._"

Clearly, the music had offended Kurt's sensibilities, as this was the only verse he put any feeling into. Nick truly felt for the countertenor. He had been given a starring role, only to realize it didn't compliment the unique talent that could make him truly shine. Nick felt something similar with the role of Quince. He could do justice to the leader of a troupe of players, but there was nothing extraordinary to be done the part – unlike Wes or Jeff's roles.

"Okay, guys. That was pretty good for a table read. I'll see you all on Thursday, and we'll start rehearsing Act I. Your homework is to memorize your lines and start learning your songs. If you don't have a speaking or singing role in that Act, come prepared to work on costumes with Miss Pillsbury or sets."

After Schuester released the teenagers for the day, Nick wove his way through the departing crowd and threw an arm around Kurt's shoulders. The countertenor was a couple inches taller, but leaned into the one-armed hug easily. He was probably used to that dating Blaine.

"What are you doing tomorrow, Kurt?"

"Helping my dad in the shop. Why, what's going on?"

"You're free in the evening, right?" The other boy nodded. "Then you're coming over to my house. We're going to rearrange your solos for your _real_ vocal range, and then Thursday we're going to convince your director to let you shine in that spotlight."

Kurt flushed, but tightened his grip on the shorter boy's shoulder. "Nick. Thank you."

Aside from Blaine, Jeff had been Kurt's closest friend at Dalton, and spending so much time around Jeff had meant getting to know Nick just as well. Maybe because Kurt and Nick hadn't clicked as well as Kurt and Jeff, Nick had put a great deal of effort into their friendship. He even went so far as to read _Vogue_ once or twice. Kurt had thought it was ridiculous, but incredibly touching.

"What are friends for? Besides, we hardly get to see you anymore. If I don't force you to come to Westerville, you'll forget you have friends at Dalton."

"Impossible!" Kurt scoffed.

**o o o**

Kurt and Nick parted ways in the parking lot. Nick went to join the Warblers piling into David's car, and Kurt jogged over to Blaine's Mustang where his boyfriend was still in an intense discussion with Rachel over one of Hermia and Lysander's scenes.

"Are we ready?" he asked, tapping his watch. "The movie starts at six o'clock."

Rachel narrowed her eyes at Kurt. "It's only four."

"We're going to dinner first. Early bird special ends at four thirty," he deadpanned.

Before Rachel could protest, Kurt opened the driver's side door for his boyfriend. Biting his lip to keep from laughing, Blaine slid behind the wheel and watched Kurt round the car and climb into the passenger seat. He wouldn't have minded talking to Rachel more about the scene; she actually had some very insightful comments, but clearly Kurt had something on his mind if he was inventing movies and dinners they had never planned on attending.

"So, since we can't go to your house now that you've told Rachel about this imaginary dinner and movie with the senior citizens of Lima …." Blaine said teasingly.

"What? Why can't we go to my house?" Kurt snapped back.

"Rachel and Finn are going back to your house."

"And you couldn't have found a way to tell me this before?" Blaine sent Kurt a reproachful glance. "And stop with the puppy dog face. I am so not in the mood for it right now."

"Okay, Kurt. I don't think I did anything wrong considering I was reading and singing for Lysander all morning. So tell me who did what wrong and get it off your chest."

Kurt huffed and leaned his forehead against the half-opened window as the town of Lima flew past. He considered complaining about Blaine's vintage car not having air conditioning, but they'd been over that before.

"I hate this stupid musical!"

"No, you don't," Blaine replied, and Kurt could practically feel the superiority dripping off the words. "You hate that the songs are written for a tenor."

"If you already know what's upsetting me, then why did you bother to ask?" the brunette snapped. "I hate it when you do that."

"You're being really petulant right now."

Kurt heard in Blaine's tone that he wasn't going to be okay with getting sniped at for something he had no control over much longer. Kurt forced himself to take a deep breath and let go of all the irritation that had been building up over the course of the morning.

"I'm sorry, Blaine." He took his boyfriend's free hand and intertwined their fingers. "I don't understand how I'm supposed to be the star if the material I'm given is so common."

Blaine was quiet for a long time. "I wish I could understand where you're coming from, Kurt, but I can't exactly. I'm a tenor, just like a million other guys out there. Everything I'm given is common. I think a star is someone who can take something common and make it extraordinary. I know you have that in you, Kurt."

"Nick and I are going to rearrange my songs tomorrow night." Kurt felt Blaine's disapproval in his stillness. "What, Blaine?"

"Nothing. It's just that I'm not sure that's the best idea. When you're performing professionally, the director isn't going rewrite the material for a countertenor. Sometimes, you're going to have to sing tenor."

Kurt refused to speak to Blaine the rest of the drive to Westerville, as Blaine had apparently decided they should go back to his house. Blaine parked the car in his driveway, but didn't shut off the engine.

"Should I just take you back to your house? If they ask what happened to our date, you can tell Rachel and Finn we had a fight and you're not speaking to me, which is true. Although I'm not really sure why that is, since I thought part of what makes us great together is that we're always honest."

Kurt was silent for so long, Blaine moved to put the car in reserve and begin the long drive back to Lima.

"I flaunt what makes me unique," he said at last. "Whatever bullies target me for, I embrace it and throw it back in their faces. I could dress 'straight' and walk without sashaying my hips, but I don't want to."

"I don't want you to either," Blaine murmured. It earned him a half-smile and swat to the upper arm.

"I wasn't just picked on for looking and acting effeminate. I sound like a girl too." Blaine opened his mouth to protest. "Don't even try. It doesn't bother me anymore, anyway. My voice is my most unique trait, and as conceited as this will sound, I literally love the sound of my own voice. I hate that I can't use that voice in this musical."

"I get that, Kurt. But for the record, when you sing in your lower register … it's fucking hot."

The countertenor visibly started. In the seven months he had known Blaine, he'd never once heard anything harsher than a hissed "damn" when he'd stubbed his toe. The swearing, coupled with the lusty darker color of his boyfriend's eyes sent shivers up Kurt's spine. He reached across the car and cut the engine.

The boys were in Blaine's bedroom in thirty seconds flat. As he kicked off his shoes, Kurt sensed Blaine's solid presence behind him before he felt his boyfriend grab his hips and place wet kisses on his neck. Kurt gasped when Blaine tugged him backwards so their bodies were flush against each other.

"B-Blaine, you're going to leave a mark."

Kurt's breath stuttered as Blaine bit down hard on the sensitive skin between neck and shoulder. Blaine pressed into him, and Kurt stumbled forward into the desk so that he was trapped between Blaine's warm body and cold furniture. It was so unlike Blaine, this urgent groping, but so hot too.

"What's gotten into you?" Kurt's voice had gone high and breathy.

Blaine's hips rubbed up on Kurt again, and this time he felt his boyfriend's hardness. His own arousal grated against the desk in a glorious friction that caused Kurt to moan hungrily. The acoustics in the high-ceilinged room amplified his desire and reminded Kurt they were in a very quiet house owned by a latent homophobe.

"Blaine, stop," he said soberly. "Not here. Your dad."

Blaine removed his lips from Kurt's neck where he had left a dark bruise, but he stayed pressed up against Kurt. "Is at work." His returned his lips to Kurt's neck, licking and nipping at the sensitive skin. Kurt shuddered lustily.

"We should talk about this," Kurt mumbled, even as he pressed his hips backwards into Blaine.

Suddenly Blaine was gone, and Kurt reeled from the loss of his warm, firm body. He spun, bewildered, to find his boyfriend sitting on the end of the bed with his legs crossed. The position only made the bulge in Kurt's tight pants that much more noticeable.

"You wanted to talk?"

Kurt thought Blaine was teasing him. He batted his eyelashes and leaned against the desk, jutting his hips out to display his obvious hardness. Blaine's eyes moved from Kurt's face to his crotch, and he licked his lips eagerly. Kurt sucked in a sharp breath. The gesture alone – the implication in it – nearly sent him tumbling over the edge. Then, with a pained expression, Blaine dragged his eyes up to meet Kurt's.

"I'm so sorry, Kurt. We just started talking about going further a couple weeks ago. I shouldn't have … thrown myself at you like that."

Kurt growled in frustration. For once, he wished his boyfriend wasn't so damned respectful. All he wanted was to feel Blaine rutting up against him and that delicious heat building up inside him. But then he realized Blaine didn't look contrite; he looked hurt.

"Oh, Blaine." Kurt crossed from the desk to the bed in a flash. "No, I – I just let my skittishness about sex take over for a minute. I don't really want to talk."

He placed his hands on Blaine's shoulders and pushed him back against the mattress. Blaine's hands automatically came to rest on Kurt's hips as the taller boy straddled him.

"Oh, Jesus. We're really going to do this."

Blaine sounded as panicked as Kurt felt, but Kurt knew what he wanted now. He leaned down to pressed kisses to his boyfriend's mouth. Fumbling, nervous hands undid belts and slid pants down to their knees. Kurt leaned down to lick at Blaine's lips and their tongues tangled together as their hips began moving in sync. Heavy breathing and pleasurable moans echoed off the walls. Too soon, the boys went absolutely still, one after the other, as they experienced the magnificent rush of release caused by someone else for the first time.

When his shaking arms couldn't support his weight any longer, Kurt collapsed onto Blaine. The shorter boy wrapped his boyfriend in a tight embrace, gently stroking his back with his fingertips. He wished now they had taken off their shirts so they could be closer together, but logical thought had flown out the window the moment Kurt's hands had touched his belt buckle.

They lay together, panting and sticky in their underwear, until Kurt began to feel almost too heavy for Blaine to breathe properly. Sufficiently recovered, Kurt pushed himself off the bed and hoisted his pants up to his hips.

"Umm, can I borrow some …"

He motioned to the dark spot on his boxer briefs. Blaine nodded quickly and scampered across the room to pull a pair out of his dresser. He felt Kurt's eyes on his back, but he couldn't look at his boyfriend right away. Inexplicably, contrary to every fantasy he'd had of this moment, it was Blaine who felt abashed, not Kurt.

"Blaine?" Kurt's soft voice almost trembled. "A-Are you – Do you regret – "

"No!" the shorter boy cried. He met his boyfriend's gaze and saw Kurt's eyes rimmed red. "No, Kurt. Not at all. I love you. I love that I could share that with you."

The light returned to Kurt's eyes, and he smiled shyly. "Me too."

**o o o**

Kurt arrived at the Duval manor – he couldn't think of a residence with more than nineteen rooms as a house – just after five o'clock. He had left the shop a little early to shower and change into fashionable dark skinny jeans paired with white boots, white button down, and black-and-white checked jacket with zips.

A woman he had never met before answered the door and gestured him inside without a word, pointing to the Bluetooth in her ear as an excuse. Kurt took a few tentative steps into the atrium and peered into the coat room, which was roughly the size of the Hudson-Hummel living room. The manor buzzed with activity and the chatter of a dozen phone conversations.

"Kurt!" Nick called, squeezing between two women who were arguing over the use of the word 'worth' versus 'value.' "Sorry about all of this. I didn't realize my dad was going to turn our house into headquarters today. I thought he was still in Wisconsin."

During his semester at Dalton, Kurt had been made aware by casual hints that Nick's father was a Congressman in the US House of Representatives, and that his re-election was in constant question. He was, apparently, somewhat 'out of touch' with his constituents. All Kurt really knew about Congressman Duval was that Burt adored him and had voted for him in every election until lines had been moved and Lima and Westerville were no longer in the same district.

"So what's the big crisis this week?" Kurt inquired.

"_The Westerville Tribune_ got wind that he was in Madison to work on a bill he's co-sponsoring in the next session with James Keillor, so of course, they're loading up on the anti-family values rhetoric, which means the Duval children are being trotted out for the media circus to prove my dad is a family man."

Nick said all of this with a casual air, but Kurt heard the edgy undertone in his voice. He had witnessed the so-called "media circus" once at Dalton. Congressman Duval had come to the school to have lunch with Nick on a rare mid-week visit and brought a gaggle of photographers with him. Nick had kept a smile hitched on his lips the whole time, but he'd been irritated and sullen during Warblers practice afterwards.

"Anyway," the raven-haired boy went on, "we can go practice at Dalton since we won't find any quiet in the house today."

"Will the school be open?" It was summer and afterhours, but then Kurt remembered the perks of being a Warbler. "What am I thinking? Are doors ever locked for rock stars?"

Nick took a set of keys off a hook by the door, but was stopped before they could leave. Congressman Duval had appeared in the atrium more dressed down than the last time Kurt had seen him. He wore pleated khakis – the boy shuddered – and a tucked in light blue button down. Nick looked exactly like his father. They had the same dark hair that curled just slightly at the ends and both stood several inches shorter than Kurt.

"Dad, this is my friend, Kurt Hummel. Kurt, my dad. We're going to Dalton to practice some songs for the musical."

"It's nice to meet you, Congressman," Kurt said politely, shaking hands. The Congressman looked him over with an assessing eye, like he was sizing up Kurt and deciding if he was good enough to be Nick's friend. Apparently, he found the fashionable clothes and high-pitched voice not objectionable, because the next moment he was smiling. Nick, however, began to frown deeply.

"You too, Kurt. And you can call me Ben. I get enough of being called by my job title from my staff. Are you a Warbler, then, Kurt?"

"I used to be, but I transferred back to my old school after some problems were taken care of."

The shrewd gleam in the Congressman's eye led Kurt to believe he had understood exactly what those problems had been. It wasn't difficult to put two-and-two together. "Are you two not staying for dinner, then?"

"We'll grab something on the way," Nick answered. "We have a lot of work to do if we're going to be ready for rehearsal."

Kurt let himself be ushered out of the manor, but he wouldn't have minded a family dinner over fast food. Nick's hand on his back was insistent, though, so he trotted out to the driveway and over to Nick's Audi.

"I'm really sorry about that, Kurt," Nick said, after he had pulled out of the driveway. "My dad is a good man. He tries to do the right thing, but DC – it screws with your ethical compass."

"I don't really know what you're talking about, Nick."

The other boy flushed. "Oh. Just forget it then."

"I don't think I can now that I know something happened that I should have picked up on."

Nick stayed silent for so long Kurt thought he would refuse to answer, but as he turned onto the highway, he started talking again. "The reason my dad is always campaigning, like from the moment after he's elected, is because he's pretty progressive for our district."

Realization dawned on Kurt. He knew exactly where this conversation was going, and it made him feel dirty. He felt like he had in the aftermath of Karofsky's kiss – violated and used. He didn't want Nick to go on, but he was too shocked to speak up.

"James Keillor is an openly gay Congressman, and the bill they're working on together is a gay rights thing. I don't know what, but I know that's what he always works on with James. This … _thing_ that my dad has to fix – his public image – the only way to do it is to backpedal, but he also doesn't want to compromise too much. So when he saw you – no offense, Kurt, but …"

He couldn't suppress the rueful smile playing over his lips. "I'm a flamboyant stereotype?"

The sarcastic humor didn't alleviate Nick's distress. In fact, he looked utterly crushed. "Kurt, I am so, _so_ sorry. I didn't mean it like that." Kurt placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder and waited for him to continue. "Anyway, if you'd joined us for dinner, then his staff would have been free to talk about our friendship and how my dad is so supportive of my gay friends. Or imply that I'm gay too, and you're my boyfriend."

That brought Kurt up short. "They wouldn't!"

Nick shrugged. "Sure they would. If it would make my dad look sympathetic to whomever they're talking to, they'd come right out and say it. My dad has dubious ethics at times; his staff has none whatsoever."

Kurt gaped open-mouthed at his friend, too stunned to know what to say. He tried to imagine what it would feel like for people to incorrectly assume his sexual orientation, but he had no point of reference. Even before he came out, everyone (except Mercedes) had known he was gay.

"It doesn't bother me," Nick said, misinterpreting Kurt's expression. "I mean, the lying part bothers me, but not the part about some people thinking I'm gay. You and Blaine and Jeff and Cameron, I love you guys."

"I didn't think it would. But Cameron isn't gay."

"Oh, he's not? To be honest, I don't really understand his whole thing."

"Mmm. Transgender issues are a little difficult to grasp. Ask him about it sometime. He loves to talk about that glorious future when he's a woman." Kurt put on a wispy voice that matched Cameron's when he waxed eloquently.

Nick laughed for the first time since they'd left his house. "I'll wait until he's a little gloomy and make his day by asking."

"Just don't mention that he won't ever actually look like Selena Gomez. I made him cry when I let that slip."

They arrived at Dalton five minutes later, with the atmosphere in the car considerably lighter. Talking about Cameron had led to Nick recapping the end of semester for the Warblers. Kurt knew some of the stories from Blaine, but they didn't usually spend their dates recounting ever major and minor event in their friends' lives.

The evening custodian unlocked the door and music room for Nick and Kurt without comment. Apparently, he only muttered when Wes was around to hear the complaints. Kurt hadn't been in this room since he'd transferred back to McKinley. The décor was as different from McKinley's choir room as possible, and so were the memories he'd made here. It felt like entering a dream, being back inside Dalton. In this room, he had never been mocked or derided. He had never really been Kurt either. Even so, he felt secure in this safe haven.

"Nostalgic? Because the Warblers would give anything to have you back."

"Nostalgic, yes. And I still have one of my uniforms, but you know I can't come back here."

Nick nodded while spreading out the sheet music on the baby grand piano. When Kurt joined him, he saw Nick had already penciled in some changes.

"Did you manage to sing these?" the countertenor teased, pointing to the higher treble notes. He knew Nick hated his falsetto voice and preferred to take the comfortable baritone parts of the Warblers' arrangements. His smile dropped a notch the more he scanned the page. "A high F?"

"Someone has been telling stories about you," Nick commented, taking a seat on the piano bench. "Ready to give this arrangement a try?"

Kurt sang the higher melody with relish. His voice easily slid up the scale and allowed him to put his personal touch on the song in a way he couldn't with a tenor part. Nick played with a permanent smile etched onto his lips. Both boys were beaming at the end of the song.

"So I take it I did a good job with the arrangement?"

"I would make a few more changes yet, but, yes, you did an excellent job."

Kurt joined Nick on the piano bench and pointed out the areas he thought could use a little more tweaking. Together, they tested out various arrangements and took turns playing out their ideas on the piano keys. Not until Blaine texted at seven o'clock did the boys realize they had been so absorbed in their conversation on the way over that they hadn't picked up dinner.

_Can't wait to hear you sing those breathtaking high notes. –Blaine_

_Why wait? We're still at Dalton. –Kurt_

_You don't have to ask me twice! Be there in twenty. –Blaine_

_Make it thirty and bring us some dinner? –Kurt_

_It'll cost you a kiss. –Blaine_

_Hopefully just from me. –Kurt_

"You guys are sickening," Nick groaned.

"You're reading my texts?"

"No, I'm watching your face as you read Blaine's texts. That's enough." Kurt blushed furiously and tucked his phone away. "God, even when I was dating Andie we didn't get that mushy, and she was one emotional girl."

"Yeah, what happened there? If it's okay for me to ask?"

Nick shrugged and idly tapped middle C on the piano. "I, uh – I made a mistake."

"Nick, please! The level of detail is too graphic. I can't possibly stand to hear anymore."

Nick bumped his shoulder against Kurt's and smiled sheepishly at his friend's antics. "I made a mistake … with Ros, Andie's roommate at Crawford."

"I thought Andie's roommate was Wes's girlfriend." Kurt gasped dramatically at the guilty expression on Nick's face. "Oh my God. It's like New Directions in blazers! At least no one in the Warblers can get pregnant. Does Wes know?"

"God, no!"

"Well, if I ever find you bludgeoned to death, I'll make sure to check Wes's gavel for dried blood."

"Uh, Kurt. Please, don't tell Wes. It was just some kissing, and Honor told me she doesn't think they'll be together much longer because they're going to college across the country from each other. I don't want to ruin what might be their last summer together."

"I've kept much bigger secrets than that."

"Oh? Any juicy gossip you'd like to share?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "And they say girls are gossips. No, I don't want to share any of the sordid details in New Directions' past."

Nick fiddled with the piano keys, picking out a melody Kurt couldn't quite place. "Does Quinn play a part in any of those stories you won't share?" He tried to ask it casually, but knew he failed from the sudden arch in Kurt's brow.

"Quinn is an integral part of New Directions," he answered neutrally.

"Kurt, my dad is a politician. I know a "no comment" when I hear one."

"I'd rather not talk about Quinn's secrets, or lack thereof. I would, however, be amenable to talking about why you want to talk about Quinn."

"I'm interested in my new cast mates."

"Uh huh. Well, then let's start with Mike Chang. You may have noticed that he's Asian. I bring it up only to warn you that Mike will mention it at least a hundred times this summer. He's dating – "

"Fine! Fine! I like Quinn, okay? She's smart and beautiful and talented."

Kurt offered a smug smile to mask his worry. New Directions was like a dysfunctional, incestuous family full of backstabbing and melodrama. He wouldn't have it any other way because the dynamic worked. What he didn't want, however, was to pull the Warblers into that hot mess.

"Then maybe you should try talking to Quinn about Quinn?" He hesitated, but added. "I know that she's single right now."

Nick gave a whoop of joy and threw an arm around Kurt's shoulders. "I _knew_ she was flirting with me! You are the best, Kurt!"

Blaine arrived a few minutes later with carry out bags from Panda and leaned against the jamb while Kurt and Nick finished singing the Puck-Oberon duet. He clapped wildly, both for his boyfriend's performance and the new arrangement.

Kurt flushed at the attention and hurried over to welcome his boyfriend with a kiss. Something new had developed between them after being together so intimately yesterday. Kurt felt it like a rolling sensation under his skin. Nick cleared his throat when their kiss lingered a moment too long.

"Do you think Mr. Schuester will go for the new arrangements?" Nick asked, digging out a carton from the bag. "He said he would rearrange songs for Cameron and James."

Kurt chewed thoughtfully on his food. "Yes, I do. Mr. Schue is pretty set in his ways, but he can be persuaded. I think the new arrangements sound better, so he'll approve them."

After Nick finished inhaling his fried rice and two-thirds of the egg rolls, he gathered up his things. "I'm guessing the two of you don't really want me hanging around." He gave an exaggerated wink that made the couple blush. "And anyway, the publicists are probably chomping at the bit to get some good shots of the Duval family all at home together."

Blaine gave his friend a sympathetic look. He had seen the media spectacle more times than Kurt, and Nick hadn't always been as calm and collected about it. He vividly remembered a father-son fight freshmen year in the Dalton atrium that the publicists almost couldn't contain.

"Well, if you ever need a fake boyfriend …," Kurt said airily.

Blaine's neck whipped around, but his boyfriend missed the flash of hurt in his eyes because he was saying good-bye to Nick. He tried to tell himself to be reasonable, that Kurt was only joking to lighten Nick's mood. But he felt a new possessiveness over Kurt, and he didn't like that Kurt didn't share the sentiment.

"So what are we doing tonight?" Blaine asked, starting to clear up their dinner mess. "My parents will be home around nine-thirty."

That meant they would have to gauge their time at the Anderson home carefully. Kurt had been welcomed to come over when he and Blaine were only friends, but now he was _the boyfriend_ – or, as Blaine's dad thought of him, the-boy-making-my-son-think-he-really-is-gay.

"That gives us just over an hour. Whatever you want," Kurt said, linking his arm with Blaine's and leading them out of the music room.

_Whatever you want_.

Blaine felt a nervous fluttering in his stomach as he thought back to yesterday. Being intimate with Kurt was beyond bliss. He had loved every second of it – watching Kurt's sexy faces, feeling Kurt pressing down on him – and wanted to do it again. Yet it also sent a thrill of fear through Blaine when he thought about how much he enjoyed following Kurt's lead, being pressed down into the mattress by Kurt. He hadn't expected that, had never dreamed it was a possibility. He was the masculine one, so why had he so easily fallen into the passive role yesterday?

Something had changed between them, and Blaine wasn't sure if he was okay with this new dynamic.

"Better not risk it," Blaine answered.


	5. Turning Tables Make Us Dizzy

**Author's Note: **The full cast list can be found here (remove the spaces): h t t p : / / arainymonday . wordpress . com / 2011 / 07 / 05 / a-fine-frenzy-cast-list

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five<strong>  
><strong>Turning Tables Make Us Dizzy<strong>

_Third week of June_

Thursday morning the Warblers found that the McKinley stage had been cleared of the tables and the curtain opened to reveal the empty backstage areas. They had arrived a little earlier than usual, minus Blaine who had stopped by the Hudson-Hummels to pick up Kurt, who had started to complain about Finn always driving his Navigator home after rehearsals.

"Warblers," Wes said, banging his gavel on the armrest of his chair to get their attention. He stood up to face the group. "Remember we have a meeting tonight at five o'clock to discuss the set list for our King's Island Fourth of July Extravaganza performance."

A round of groans traveled through the group. Nick raised his hand and waited for Wes to recognize him before standing and speaking.

"I make a motion that we have that meeting now, before rehearsal, instead of afterwards."

"Seconded," Jeff, Flint, Luke, Richard, Cameron, and James said in unison.

Wes frowned. "Blaine isn't here."

"He will be soon," Nick countered. "We have twenty minutes, Wes. Do you want to get some work done and decisions made? Or do you want to stay at Dalton until all hours of the night and risk missing _Grey's Anatomy_?"

Wes kicked at David's leg when his fellow Council member betrayed him by laughing. "First of all, it's the summer so _Grey's Anatomy_ is a rerun. Secondly, it doesn't start until nine o'clock. And thirdly, I don't watch _Grey's Anatomy_. But, apparently, the motion carries."

Since the other Council members were too busy guffawing into their hands to begin the discussion, Wes continued chairing the meeting alone.

"We're going to be singing the national anthem when the park opens, so that is automatically on our rehearsal list." He waited for David to stop laughing long enough to begin taking minutes. "I think we should keep to Fourth of July songs thematically. I'll open the floor for song suggestions."

The typical songs were offered first: "Rockin' in the USA" by John Mellencamp, "Surfin' USA" by the Beach Boys, and "4th of July, Ashbury Park (Sandy)" by Bruce Springsteen. One Warbler, in a fit of sarcasm or stupidity, suggested _Born on the Fourth of July_ which received equal parts laughter and eye rolls. Nick's option of "Saturday in the Park" by Chicago was enthusiastically received as was Jeff's suggestion of "American Girls" by Counting Crows. Cameron, ever the Elton John fanboy, thought "Philadelphia Freedom" should be on the list as well. It was Wes who requested the most controversial song be considered: "Blowin' in the Wind" by Bob Dylan.

After nominations were closed, Thad and David divided the Warblers into groups and assigned arrangements to be presented at a special rehearsal on Tuesday. Of the six potential songs, four would be performed during the show.

"Who has the delightful task of telling Blaine he's in the group arranging a freaking _Mellencamp_ number?" Cameron grumbled. He, too, had been randomly assigned "Rockin' in the USA" and if he had anything to do with it, the arrangement would be god-awful so he didn't have to sing it in public.

"What's this about Mellencamp?" Kurt asked, sounding anxious. He and Blaine had just arrived in the auditorium, closely followed by Finn and Rachel. The girl looked eager to listen in on the Warblers' meeting, but deflated slightly when she realized it had nothing to do with a competition.

Cameron launched into a sarcastic explanation, very dramatically talking about how he had been denied the privilege of arranging an Elton John number by Thad. Kurt relaxed and took a seat next to Cameron, the only person willing to listen to his long rant. Blaine made his way to the Council, who were bent over David's minutes noting which Warblers would be arranging which songs. The lead soloist cleared his throat.

"You had another meeting without me?" he tried to ask casually, but failed.

"It was just song nominations, Blaine," Thad said, patting his friend's shoulder.

Irritation flashed in the shorter boy's eyes. "The word "just" doesn't belong in that sentence, Thad. I'm supposed to be Head Warbler in a few months. You can't have meetings without me."

"When you're on the Council, Warbler Anderson, then they can't have meetings without you. But you're not yet. And we can."

Wes and David subtly broke up the brewing disagreement by redirecting Blaine and Thad's attention to the New Directions members joining them in the auditorium. Brittany bounced up to Blaine and began talking about someone called Lord Tubbington who wanted dance lessons from them.

Mr. Schuester arrived just after 10 o'clock and greeted the students enthusiastically. "Okay, so let's get right to it. We'll start with – Yes, Kurt?"

The brunette had put his hand into the air after an encouraging nod from Nick. He stood up now and smoothed down the front of his gray vest. "Mr. Schue, if I may, I'd like to offer a suggestion about rearranging some songs. Nick and I have already done some of the work, and I'd like to perform for your approval."

The glee club director smiled. "That's great, Kurt. I thought after our table reading that some of the songs could use a little tweaking to better match a couple vocal ranges. Which songs did you guys rearrange?"

""Robin Goodfellow" and "Iris." We also have plans to adjust "A Trick of the Light" and "Think Only That You Slept"."

Mr. Schue's smile slipped. "Kurt, those are _your _songs."

"Yes. May I perform "Robin Goodfellow"?"

The teacher agreed, but only reluctantly. Kurt shrugged it off as his classic pre-epiphany-denial moment. Nick joined him on stage and sat at the piano. At Kurt's cue, he began to play the accompanying melody of the overture. The countertenor sang the notes spanning the alto and soprano ranges beautifully with just the right mix of whimsy and mischievous. The glee clubs applauded wildly when he held the final high note until all his breath had been expired.

Kurt beamed at his friends, and then turned to his teacher. "So, what do you think?"

"It was amazing, Kurt. Your voice and your performance were outstanding, and that's why I gave you this role. But that song didn't need to be rearranged." Kurt's exuberant smile faded. ""A Sprite's Eye" needs a key change for Cameron and James, and "Yesterday Morning" would work better if there was a greater difference between Blaine and Finn's parts. But none of your songs need new arrangements."

"Puck's role was written for a tenor; I'm a countertenor."

"Exactly. It was _written for a tenor_. Actors don't get to rework their parts into what they want them to be; they take what's written and make it their own. You have an amazing vocal range, Kurt. Just because you're more comfortable singing high notes doesn't mean you can't sing tenor too."

Kurt's mouth worked into a tight-lipped mask of neutrality. With his head held high, he strutted off the stage and took his seat between Blaine and Tina. His boyfriend tried to place a comforting hand over his, but Kurt moved off the armrest. He did, however, let Rachel and Mercedes in the next row pat his shoulder consoling.

"Let's begin with Act I Scene I," Mr. Schue said. "David, Santana, Mike you're up first. Richard, Rachel, Blaine, and Finn, you'll enter from stage left halfway through the scene. Quinn, you'll come in stage right later."

When the cast members needed for the scene left their seats, Mercedes scooted to the edge of her chair and whispered to Kurt. "Are you and Blaine fighting?"

Kurt shook his head. "I just – He tried to tell me rearranging the songs was a bad idea."

"So … you're mad at yourself? And you're making Blaine pay for it?" Kurt whipped around in his seat, but his best friend didn't back down under the onslaught of his bitch face. "Boy, don't you even give me that face. You hurt him when you wouldn't hold his hand. He looked like a puppy that'd just been kicked."

Tina added in a whisper, "It was so sad! I wanted to cuddle him and tell him everything would be okay. And then I kind of wanted to kick _you_, Kurt."

The boy huffed and turned back to the stage with his arms crossed over his chest. He knew the look they were talking about, and it always broke his heart when Blaine turned those pleading eyes on him. But he didn't understand why his boyfriend was so hurt. Blaine knew he didn't like to be touched when he was upset.

"You should apologize," Tina said. "Or I really will kick you next time I see you." Kurt threw a disgusted look at her, but she shrugged. "What? It's not my fault your boyfriend is so adorable."

He did a double take. Adorable? That was the word Blaine always used to describe Kurt. "Tina, do you think _I'm_ adorable?"

Her eyes widened dramatically, and it looked like she was biting back a laugh. "Uh, no, Kurt. You're most definitely not adorable." He arched his eyebrow, waiting for a better adjective. "Oh, come on. You're seriously going to make me say it? Fine. Kurt, you're sexy."

The boy bit his fist to keep from laughing. Mercedes and Tina pestered him for five minutes wanting to know what was so funny. Finally, he had himself under control enough to reply, "Oh, ladies, if only you knew how the tables have turned."

**o o o**

Rehearsal couldn't end soon enough for Quinn. Another day of art mocking life had put her in a depressing funk, and she wanted nothing more than to escape the horror of this musical. What should have been a fun, creative outlet had transformed into her nightmare.

All day, she had played the tragic heroine driven to pathetic lengths by unrequited love. All day, Quinn Fabray chased Finn Hudson around the stage, but he had eyes for Rachel Berry only.

The scenes with Blaine had broken up the repeat of the past two years of her life, but even in those moments she had to play dismally low levels of self-esteem. She had been around Blaine a few times but didn't know anything more about him than that he was the Rachel Berry of the Warblers, and that made her dislike him, Kurt's boyfriend or no.

When Mr. Schue released them for the day, Quinn broke for the door without so much as a good-bye to her friends. She reached her car before she realized someone was following and calling out her name. It came as no surprise when Nick's reflection appeared in the window.

"Hi, Quinn. I didn't have much chance to talk to you today since we're never on stage together. I'm always in the audience when you're on stage, and you're in the audience when I'm on stage." She cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes at the Warbler. "What is it?"

"Nothing. I'm just trying to figure out where the eloquent prep school boy went."

Nick flushed and averted his eyes. "I'm rambling a little."

"A little," she laughed.

"How is this for more erudite?" He cleared his throat pompously, but thankfully spoke in his normal voice. "Would you do me the honor of having dinner with me tomorrow night, Quinn Fabray?"

Quinn had known the proposal would come from the first day they met. It had always been a matter of when. (Although she had wondered if her fit of tears might have scared him off after all). Her answer was always going to be the same, because Nick was handsome, popular, talented, and a gentleman.

"I would like that very much, Nick Duval."

He flashed a bright smile with just a hint of shyness that she found adorable and enticing. The boys at McKinley didn't look at her that way anymore. No one had for going on a year, when Sam asked her out.

"If you give me your address, I'll pick you up at six?"

She agreed, saying it slow while he typed it into his phone. While they were at it, they exchanged numbers as well. "So where are we going? So I know how to dress. Breadstix?"

"Breadstix? That place we sang at on Valentine's Day? We can go there, if you'd like, but I was actually thinking of Element."

Quinn did not do slack-jawed, but her lips did part in surprise. Element, the trendy new restaurant in Columbus, had a three week waiting list. She knew because the women in her mother's gardening club complained about it incessantly.

"That's quite a bit better than Breadstix," she agreed.

"And then, if you're a fan, Elvis Costello live and in concert."

She chuckled softly. "Okay, that's not a concert many teenagers would want to see. But you're in luck. I am an Elvis Costello fan. My parents used to play his music all the time when I was little. There are probably embarrassment-inducing home movies of me and my sister dancing around the living room to "Pump It Up.""

New Directions and Warblers had begun spilling out of the school in clumps now, and once again, Nick was summoned back to his glee club with catcalls and inside jokes.

"I'll see you tomorrow then," Nick said politely.

Quinn climbed into her car feeling as if the world had turned right around again. The dread nestled in her chest from rehearsal had given way to a light, buoyant feeling. She turned the radio up on the drive home and sang along to Dusty Springfield with a smile that reached her eyes.

The momentum stayed with Quinn all evening. When she arrived home, she rummaged through the CDs her mom had stored in the garage and uploaded all the Elvis Costello she could find onto her iPod. She then danced around the house, singing while she cleaned and made dinner, reliving happy childhood memories and daydreaming about the date tomorrow.

"What has you so peppy?" Judy Fabray asked when she walked into the kitchen at six o'clock. "You've been moping around for weeks." The girl beamed at her mother, a familiar sparkle in her eye. Judy gasped. "It's a boy, isn't it?"

Quinn scooted over to make room for her mom at the island. They prepared the salad together while Quinn explained about how Nick had shown an interest in her all summer, how he had asked her out, and what they would be doing on Friday night.

"Will I approve of this boy?"

Judy had not been thrilled with Finn since after the unexpected song routine at the dinner table debacle. Any boy that stupid didn't deserve her daughter. She had said it once when they got back together, and then let it rest. She had not been distraught to hear they had broken up again.

"Yes, I think so. Do you remember me telling you about Dalton when Kurt transferred?" She wasn't surprised that her mother had forgotten. "It's a private, all boys' boarding school. Nick is very … country club."

From the expression on Judy's face, Quinn thought Nick would have to trip over his own feet and face plant tomorrow to disappoint. And she hadn't even mentioned how intelligent and kind he was, but Quinn didn't want to overdo it. If it didn't work out, she didn't want anyone to know how much she had hoped that it would.

"I was hoping I could go shopping tomorrow and get a new outfit?" the girl asked.

"Of course you can, Quinny! Will $200 cover it, do you think? If he goes to a private school, he's probably used to the best of everything."

"Mom, he likes me in the clothes I've been wearing all summer. But, no, I don't think it will."

"Use your credit card then." Quinn arched an eyebrow. Her dad covered credit card bills, which were to be used in case of emergencies only. "First dates are very important, Quinny. You want to make a good impression on this boy, don't you?"

They discussed no other topic of conversation over dinner, and Quinn felt relieved to have something else to focus on other than the musical and the empty feeling in the house.

After clearing the table and loading the dishwasher, Quinn went to her room and logged onto Facebook. She had a new friend request from Jeff and approved it. She guessed Nick had told his best friend about the date on the drive back to Westerville.

The thought gave her pause for a moment. She felt so much happiness, but she hadn't even considered telling any of her friends about it. Was this who she had become? The emotionally closed off recluse? She wondered who to tell, though. She had drifted apart from Santana and Brittany since their drama consumed so much of their lives. She had even become distant from Mercedes. Quinn had had more heartfelt conversations with _Rachel Berry_ this year than her own friends. When she saw Mercedes was online too, she made her decision.

**Quinn Fabray:** Hi, Mercedes. Are you free to go shopping tomorrow afternoon? It's been too long since we've spent time together.

**Mercedes Jones:** Hey, Quinn! Yeah, I'd love to hit the mall. I've got to get away from my brother!

**Quinn Fabray: **Is he still eating all your food?

**Mercedes Jones:** That pig went and ate a whole box of Cookie Crisp today. Nothing else. Just my cereal. I'm gonna kill him if I have to spend another day in the same house.

**Quinn Fabray:** :) I'll pick you up at ten, okay? And I'll bring a box of Cookie Crisp for you.

After they said a long, drawn out sign-off, Quinn clicked onto her wall and posted a message to share with everyone.

**Quinn Fabray** loves it when a sad day turns happy and you have hope that tomorrow can be even better.

**Nick Duval** and 16 others like this.

At ten the next morning, Mercedes jogged down the front steps of her house to climb into Quinn's car. She laughed when the blonde girl tossed a box of Cookie Crisp at her.

"It's been too long since we've hung out. I'm glad you messaged me."

Quinn nodded in agreement. She still felt the high from yesterday afternoon and evening, and it changed the way she saw the world. Shopping felt like a fun adventure, not a requirement to impress the school for the Prom Queen campaign. Driving to the mall and singing along to the radio with her friend was uplifting, not a core to muscle through.

"I have to admit, though, that I'm not buying anything," Mercedes said, pausing in the middle of belting out a Rhianna song. She looked like the thought had just occurred to her. "I'm saving up my allowance for something big at the end of the summer."

"Oh? Hints?" Mercedes only grinned. "Well, that's okay. Window shopping can be fun, and you can help me find just the right outfit."

"Hints?"

But Quinn only returned her friend's secretive smile. She didn't know why she didn't blurt it out like she normally would have done, but she wanted to keep her date with Nick to herself right now. Her mom had to know since she would be meeting him. (Unless he turned out not to be a gentleman after all, but Quinn doubted he was the type to honk the horn and wait for her in the car). No one else needed to know how overjoyed she felt right now, how she hadn't felt this _right_ since last September.

Mercedes cottoned on pretty quickly that Quinn was shopping for something different than her normal style. As soon as they'd walked into the mall, Mercedes had made for their usual marks, but Quinn had breezed right past the storefronts. They had already hit up several stores the former cheerleader usually avoided: Lacoste, , and Ralph Lauren. Mercedes's jaw fell open when Quinn entered Vineyard Vines.

"Girl, you done lost your mind if you think you're finding baby doll dresses and combat boots in here," the shorter girl said, but followed dutifully.

Mercedes was right. The dresses in Vineyard Vines weren't exactly Quinn's typical style, but they did have a certain similarity that appealed to Quinn. After trying on several brightly colored dresses – none of which Quinn could imagine wearing into Element – she settled on a simple white strapless dress. Paired with a navy blazer and nude sandals, it was perfect for a dinner at Element and an Elvis Costello concert afterwards. She couldn't resist buying one of the classic Vineyard Vines totes too.

"How do I look?" Quinn asked, modeling the completed outfit for Mercedes.

The other girl's eyes widened and her mouth pulled to the side. "Uh … You know, we should probably ask Kurt."

Mercedes snapped a picture and sent it to Kurt for analysis. He texted back while Quinn was changing into her own clothes.

_Tell her I said: Ahoy! And that the maritime look is very last season. –Kurt_

"He says you look like you're about to join the damn navy," Mercedes paraphrased.

_Keep the dress, it's a classic, but pair it with something splashier. Try a chartreuse scarf. I know Vineyard Vines has one –Kurt _

It shouldn't have surprised her that Kurt could identify the store they were in from a single picture and recall all the other clothes in that store.

_A smaller bag would pair better. Try a clutch in a neutral color. –Kurt_

_Blaine says: Hi! –Kurt_

"He also says it should be illegal to have a bag with a lobster on it and to carry a clutch instead. Blaine says you look like a Warbler, so the blazer is gone too."

Quinn came out of the dressing room frowning, but deferred to Kurt's opinion in the end, although she argued in favor of keeping the lobster tote. She thought it looked just stupid enough to seem genuine. But she had to admit that the modified ensemble, while still preppy, looked like she had tried less. The whole bill came to just over $400, and Quinn felt a sense of satisfaction knowing her dad would pay it without argument. Even the tiniest dig felt like justified retribution.

"What do you say to some lunch before we go crazy at the Elder Behrman's makeup counters?" Quinn asked.

"So will it be Jimmy Johns or pretzels?"

The girls made their way to the small food court, which, like every mall in small town Ohio, was really just a Jimmy Johns between Claire's and Old Navy storefronts and an Auntie Anne's. They decided on sandwiches and a dessert pretzel before claiming a bench in front of Sears.

"I like the outfit you bought, Quinn, but I have to ask … why the new look?"

Quinn chewed thoughtfully on her turkey sandwich, really pondering the question. Why _did_ she immediately adapt to Nick's style? Puck and Finn and Sam didn't really have styles, other than letterman jackets which already fit so well with her Cheerios uniform. She couldn't give Mercedes an honest answer because she didn't know, so she deflected the question.

"You've only seen me at school and home. I go to a lot of events on the weekends and evenings. Events that I couldn't attend while I was pregnant. Casual dresses and combat boots are generally frowned upon."

It wasn't exactly a lie, but it was misleading enough to make Quinn uncomfortable. She had never lied to Mercedes before. The other girl sighed and averted her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Quinn. These days, I'm seeing secrets even where there are none."

Quinn reached out and placed a comforting hand over her friend's. "Mercedes? What's going on?" The other girl shook her head. "Mercedes, we've been there for each other when no one else understood what we were going through. You can always talk to me."

"It's just … family stuff. I can't really talk about it right now."

"I can definitely understand that. When you are ready, though, I promise I'll always be here."

Quinn wrapped an arm around Mercedes's shoulder and gave her a hug. They dumped the remains of their lunch into the trash before heading into Elder Behrman's, trying to forget the moment of melancholy that had seeped into their otherwise delightful day. Beauty analysis and free samples from an overenthusiastic new employee did the trick.

"This is messed up," Mercedes snapped, shaking her bag for emphasis, as they left the counter. "Why the black girls always gotta wear the morose makeup? Burnt orange? Forest green? Hell to the no! Give me some neon pink!"

Quinn laughed at the diva antics. She snatched the brightest, most ridiculous shade of pink eye shadow she could find on a nearby rack and held it out. Mercedes stared for a moment before cracking up. They held onto each other, doubled over in laughter, the whole way back to Quinn's car.

"You know I'm gonna wear this, right?" Mercedes said, holding up the eye shadow, and then immediately burst into a fresh peal of laughter.

"Oh, I know."

Quinn tried to blink away the happy tears clouding her vision so she could drive home. They ended up sitting in the idling car for another ten minutes, laughing until their stomachs hurt and they forgot what had made the pink eye shadow so funny in the first place.

**o o o**

The iPod on the dock shuffled and began playing "Music of the Night" from _Phantom of the Opera_. Blaine looked up from his sheet music and frowned at the device. He knew he hadn't put that song in his iTunes because he had a deep-seated hatred of that musical. He was about to slide off the bed and skip the song when his iPhone began playing "Blackbird."

He rolled onto his back and stretched to retrieve the phone from his nightstand. Blaine stared at the caller ID for a moment, not quite understanding the name he read there. Yes, they had exchanged numbers. But he had never expected a phone call. Maybe someone else was using the phone?

"Hello?"

"_So what's up with you and lover boy? I noticed a little tension yesterday. Is it of the sexual variety? Please tell me it is. I would so love to have that conversation._"

Blaine blinked stupidly for a moment. "Uh. I don't really think that's any of your business, Santana?"

"_Why not? I could totally help you out. I have, like, a million tips on seducing boys. Most of them involve boobs, but they could easily be modified._"

"I don't need help seducing Kurt," he blurted, and then he sucked in a gasp. "I mean – "

"_Wanky!_"

"Santana, why are you calling me?"

The girl on the other end of the line went quiet for a moment. _"I don't know. I was bored, so I went to my contacts list, and your name is at the very top. Don't read into it or anything. It's not like I'm auditioning to be your hag or something._"

Blaine smiled at her suddenly harsher tone. He couldn't help himself, he had to goad her just a little bit. "Artie. Artie's name is at the very top of your contact list."

"_Do you want to do something or not?_" she snapped. "_Because if I'm interrupting whatever it is you do for fun – knit rainbow-colored scarves or whatever – then I'll just move on down my contact list._"

"That would be Brittany, right?" he asked, mentally alphabetizing her friends. "Wait. You called me before you called Brittany? Aw, _Santana_ – "

"_You can either join me at the Lima Bean in a half hour or you can go back to drooling over Neil Patrick Harris, but you're definitely going to stop _cooing _at me._"

"I'll see you there."

Blaine laughed after hitting the end call button and scrambled off the bed to change into something other than his Dalton sweats. By all accounts, he shouldn't like Santana at all. She was nothing like his other friends: reserved, proper, preppy. But he did like her. A lot. Her fiery personality and take-no-prisoners attitude reminded him a lot of Kurt. Even if he didn't suspect she played for the same team (or played for both teams) and was having a hard time with it, he would still go meet her for coffee.

"Where are you off to this late?" Joel Anderson asked.

Blaine paused in the foyer, his eyes flicking to the clock above the couch. He hadn't realized it was already 8:45, but the Lima Bean was open until 11:00 on the weekends, so he didn't see a problem. His dad had no set curfew for him; he just had to tell him when he expected to be back and not miss that time by more than an hour.

"The Lima Bean. And then probably I'll do something in Lima. I'll be back by … uh, midnight? If that's okay, dad?"

Joel nodded once, but he didn't look happy. "I guess so. You didn't tell me you had a date, though."

"Oh, I'm not meeting Kurt. One of my friends just called. I'm going to meet her."

"Her?"

Blaine groaned and mentally kicked himself. His father looked so happy right now, and it burned him up inside. He wanted so badly to say, "Yes, her name is Santana, and she's a lesbian" but he didn't know that for sure, and even if he did, it wasn't his place to share that information with anyone.

"Yeah, most of Kurt's friends from McKinley are girls," he said, satisfied that he'd found a way to bring his boyfriend back into the conversation. "I should go if I'm going to be on time."

Blaine arrived at the Lima Bean a few minutes late. Santana waited by the front door drawing attention with her incredibly short skirt. Much to her mock dismay, Blaine insisted on hugging her in greeting.

"Hey," he said, opening the door for her, "if you're going to be my friend while pretending you don't want to be, I'm going to make it as amusing for myself as I can."

She rolled her eyes as she stepped up to the counter to order, but there was a smile there on her full lips that she didn't even bother to hide. They took a seat at table for two and started up an experimental conversation to see what they had in common, other than being friends with Kurt and singing in glee clubs. It turned out they had similar interests in not much else, so they settled for discussing music.

"You don't really listen to that Top 40 crap all the time, do you?" Blaine objected with a muffled scoff around a mouthful of biscotti. "Oh my God, you do! That is so sad. Okay, after you finish eating your seven cookies like a good little Hobbit, we're going to find you some respectable music."

"I'm not that short."

"Your boyfriend is three inches taller than you, and he's not exactly a Frankenteen himself."

"Two inches. And I don't know what Frankenteen means."

Santana insisted on driving Blaine's car to the music store. His taste in cars was, apparently, the only thing about him she openly approved of, because she also took the opportunity to make a dig about his hipster sweater and saddle shoes.

"It's not really my car, you know. I mean, it is, but my dad only rebuilt it with me because he thought it would make me straight. I would sell it and get something newer, but it would only make things worse between us."

Santana frowned in the driver's seat and took a corner too sharply. "I don't really hate your clothes. I like the hipster look." She noticed Blaine's arched eyebrows. "Don't judge."

They arrived at an old rundown record store ten minutes later. The white painted cinderblock façade had turned yellow with weather, and the grimy windows looked like they hadn't been cleaned in years. Inside, a bearded, tattooed clerk was giving a tarot reading at the counter. He nodded to Santana and eyed Blaine – hungrily? – before turning back to the cards.

"Oh, yeah, he's on team gay," the Latina girl muttered.

"Bears are so not my type," he answered with a shudder.

She dragged him down an aisle on the far side of the store marked – amusingly, if unhelpfully – "good music." Blaine was beginning to believe that this place couldn't actually be real. The seedy feel, the helter-skelter organization, and the creepy owner seemed like something out of an indie movie about struggling musicians in LA, not a real place in Lima, Ohio.

"Let's be honest here," Santana began. "You're not ready for the awesomeness that is Rasta, but we'll get there. We'll ease you into it. Let's start with some singers that aren't auto-tuned."

Blaine was aware of most of the artists whose CDs Santana deemed Blaine needed to own even if he'd never heard more than one or two songs by the bands. Halfway down the row, he already had committed to experiencing Duffy, Grace Potter and the Nocturnals, and Freelance Whales. Santana wasn't done with him yet, though. There was still Sufjan Stevens, A Fine Frenzy, and Rufus Wainwright to rave about. She didn't believe he had Adele's albums until he sang a few bars of several songs not released as singles.

"I think I've got enough to listen to for the next several … months," Blaine said.

He couldn't hold all the CDs in his hands anymore; they were cradled in the crooks of both arms. Santana relented and made a path to the counter. It was a good thing Blaine saved his allowance wisely or he wouldn't have had enough in his account to pay for the stack of albums. Since Blaine didn't have a CD player in his car – "It's a vintage Mustang, Santana. We weren't going to put in a _CD player_!" – she insisted they spend the rest of the night at her house listening to music.

Santana's room was a little darker than he'd imagined it and much smaller than his own, but not a bad size. He almost died when he saw the faux white tiger rug on the floor, though. As predicted, she had a Rastafarian poster hanging above her bed. After putting the Freelance Whales into the CD player, Santana flopped down onto her bed. Blaine stood awkwardly in the middle of the room listening to the opening notes, and liking what he heard, but unsure what to do with himself. Santana gave him a pointed looked and patted the bed beside her.

"Like Kurt doesn't share a bed with Rachel and Mercedes during their sleepovers," she added.

She had a point, so Blaine kicked off his shoes and joined her on the comfortable bed. He linked his fingers behind his head and stared at the ceiling. Lying side-by-side so they weren't looking at each other seemed to make it easier for Santana to talk openly and without the bite in her voice. Blaine learned about her family, what she thought about not being a Cheerio anymore, and that she had gotten breast implants last summer. That threw him, and he looked instinctively. Without warning, Santana grabbed his right hand and placed it on her breast.

"Sorry, Santana," he chortled, delicately removing his hand. "Rachel already tried."

"Get the fuck out!" she laughed. "Oh my God. Okay, spill. I want to hear the whole sordid thing."

Blaine didn't mention that he'd never heard her laugh so genuinely before. It would only make her retreat again. Instead, he started with the Rachel Berry House Party Train Wreck Extravaganza and went from there. She knew about Spin the Bottle, but nothing after the party itself. Before he knew it, Santana was leaning over him to put in the Grace Potter and the Nocturnals CD, and he was telling her about the Warblers GAP Attack and Kurt bitching him out for having too many solos.

They never did see the clock hit midnight. They fell asleep talking about their favorite Beatles songs halfway through a Sufjan Stevens album and didn't wake up until the next morning when Brittany came over to pick up Santana for motocross practice.

When Blaine walked into his house at ten that morning and explained he'd fallen asleep at Santana's and that he was sorry, his dad's only response was to grin and invite "this girl" over for dinner. Blaine trudged up to his room and went into the bathroom to take a long shower, blissfully unaware of the storm of text messages inundating his phone.

Blaine padded back into his room humming "Hannah" and murmuring the few words he remembered of the song under his breath thirty minutes later. He booted up his computer, thinking he would spend the morning uploading his new CDs into iTunes, and went to his closet to pick out clothes for the day. He had plans to meet Kurt for lunch, and then they were going shopping and to see _Carmen_ at OSU.

His buzzing iPhone alerted him to a new text. He finished buttoning his gray slacks before picking up the phone. He was surprised to see he had ten texts waiting for him. That hadn't happened since the day he'd sang "Teenage Dream" to Kurt and afterward every Warbler had sent variations on "Get some, Anderson!"

_I just ran into Brittany. Anything you want to tell me? –Kurt_

Blaine felt a sinking feeling in his gut. He slipped into his desk chair, hating to read the subsequent messages, but knowing he had to.

_Seriously? No response? –Kurt_

_ You might not have anything to say, but I do. Call me. –Kurt_

The time stamp showed Kurt had been patient for only nine minutes before unleashing his fury in text format.

_Brittany said you were in bed with Santana. What the hell did she mean? –Kurt_

_I know Santana, and she's never been in bed with a boy she didn't mean to seduce. You just slept, right? –Kurt _

_ I thought we were over this bisexual thing. That you know you're definitely gay. You got off on my dick rubbing against yours, Blaine! You're GAY! –Kurt_

_ OMG. That's what this is about, isn't it? It was too soon and I pushed you. I knew something was wrong. –Kurt_

_ Blaine, please call me. We can talk about this. –Kurt_

_ I love you. –Kurt_

_ Blaine? –Kurt_

Blaine groaned and dropped his head into his hands. He lasted for twenty seconds before he balled up the sweater on the back of the chair, pushed his face into it, and screamed until he ran out of breath. With that out of his system, he thought he'd feel better. But without the anger, he only felt disappointment. He picked up his phone from where he'd dropped it on the floor.

_ I can't believe you have so little faith in me. –Blaine_

_ Of course I have faith in you! But I didn't expect to hear about you and Santana in bed together. I know I majorly freaked out. I just want to know what happened. I think I deserve that much. –Kurt_

_ Am I ever going to be forgiven for what happened with Rachel? For anything I've done wrong? Or are you going to throw every stupid choice and comment in my face forever? –Blaine_

_ We shouldn't do this over text. Can we talk? –Kurt _

_ My dad is leaving at 2:30. –Blaine_

_ I'll be there. I love you. –Kurt_

Blaine didn't text back. He knew it was cruel and petty to make Kurt worry for four hours, but he was beaten down after the double insult of his father's insinuation and everything that Kurt had said. Blaine had been questioning his masculinity and how much Kurt loved him since their intimate moment. And now Kurt apparently didn't trust him either.

He was confused, and aside from Kurt, didn't feel he could really talk to anyone. Cameron wouldn't understand; he wanted to be more feminine than he already was. Jeff was great, and one of his best friends, but he was bi, and it really wasn't the same. All his other friends were straight and wouldn't understand. Last night, hanging out with Santana, he had felt like his old self for the first time in weeks. He thought he'd found something wonderful only to have it blow up in his face.

Blaine fished his phone out of his back pocket and typed a message while he fell onto his bed.

_I think the universe is conspiring against me. I finally make a girl friend who doesn't want to date me, and now Kurt thinks we slept together. –Blaine_

_Was it as good for me as it was for you? Because you were pretty good for a mythical creature, Bilbo ;) –Santana_

_The sleeping was wonderful. You have very fluffy pillows. Where did you get them, by the way? – Blaine_

They texted back and forth for the next several hours, alternating between sarcastic, absurd, and mundane topics. Talking to Santana took Blaine's mind off his father's inability to accept his sexual orientation and the impending conversation he had to have with Kurt.

Blaine's dad left a little after 2:30, and the doorbell rang ten minutes later. Blaine answered the door, knowing it would be Kurt and kind of dreading it. His boyfriend looked immaculate in a steel gray suit with a purple skinny tie. He offered a tight-lipped smile and followed Blaine to his room. Even though they had the house to themselves, they always spent time in Blaine's bedroom just in case his dad arrived home unexpectedly.

Once they were inside with the door closed, Kurt and Blaine did an awkward dance around each other until they ended up sitting side-by-side on the bed. They had fought before, but never since they had started dating.

"I'm glad we're talking in person," Kurt said, breaking the silence.

"Yeah." More silence. "I don't know where to begin with this. I know what I want to talk about, and I think I know what you want to talk about, and they're not at all the same things."

"I want to know what happened with Santana."

"And I want to know why you think anything happened with her. This is about trust, Kurt, and you still punishing me because I questioned my sexuality."

"Trust, yes," the taller boy conceded. "And honesty. There's something going on with you that you're not talking to me about. I can feel it, Blaine, and I have since we … were intimate. But I'm not punishing you for what happened with Rachel. I just – I panicked. You've never not texted me back. I love you so much."

Kurt's head turned for the first time, and Blaine shifted his body so he faced his boyfriend now. Kurt mirrored his movement. Desperation laced their voices now; they wanted to fix this and fix it quickly because they wanted so badly to go back to the perfection they had before.

"I was in the shower, Kurt," Blaine said, giving in just a little bit. "Your first reaction to me spending time with a girl can't be – 'Oh, Blaine must be trying to be bi again.' That's not fair; you're always with Mercedes, Tina, and Rachel when you're not with me or your family."

"I know. And I'm so, so sorry for letting my mind go there so quickly. It's difficult to imagine Santana not trying something, and I know there's something you're keeping from me." Kurt took a steadying breath, and Blaine knew what question was coming. "Blaine, please be honest with me. Do you regret what we did? Because if you do, we can slow it down again. I'll wait for you."

Blaine let out a desperate choked sound, buried his eyes in his palms, and rubbed furiously against the headache forming at his temples. Kurt took that to mean the worst, because when Blaine looked up again, he was trying to work his features into a mask of indifference.

"Then we'll wait," Kurt said, reaching out to take his boyfriend's hand.

"No, Kurt. I don't regret what we did. I'm just … I'm confused. This isn't going the way I planned at all." Blaine sounded shaky and close to tears. "I wanted to know about sex. I went out and found the information – and in more explicit ways than pamphlets. I thought I knew what we were doing. But now, I'm feeling all these new things that I don't understand."

"Oh," Kurt breathed. "I never thought I'd be grateful for the sex talk my dad gave me. I always planned on getting you back for that one day, but I guess I actually owe you one." He turned serious again. "Blaine, I'm feeling those things too. I think it's okay for us to be confused. We can figure out who we are as a couple – physically – together."

Blaine blinked furiously to will away his unshed tears. "Did you ever even need a mentor?"

The other boy considered for a moment, and then shook his head. "No, I don't think so. But I've always needed you. Even before I knew you, I needed you."

Blaine felt that the world had righted itself. They could never go back to the bliss of early love, but they could move forward together.

Blaine's lips found Kurt's across the short expanse between them. As their kisses deepened and their bodies instinctively moved closer together, hands moved from cheeks and hair to waists and hips. Kurt licked at Blaine's lips and pressed his tongue inside to explore his boyfriend's mouth.

Hyperaware of his tendency to become passive, Blaine fought through his thrill of fear and pushed gently at Kurt's shoulder. Kurt didn't lie down like he wanted, though. He swung his leg over Blaine and straddled his hips. Blaine moaned into Kurt's mouth, and his hips bucked up without conscious thought, grinding his erection into Kurt's hip. His cheeks flushed at how turned on he was just from a dozen kisses, some tight touches, and his boyfriend on top of him.

Kurt pulled back, his chest heaving and panting erotically. His lust-blown pupils were the hottest thing Blaine had ever seen. "Should we stop?"

"God, no."

This time, Blaine remembered to undress Kurt and enjoy the smooth expanse of porcelain torso he had only seen a few times before. But he lost all coherent thought when Kurt repositioned them on the bed so Blaine's thighs were around his torso and Kurt had the perfect angle to create that delicious friction. An image appeared in Blaine's mind of them recreating this position with Kurt sliding into him and filling him up. He came embarrassingly quickly, but after only two more thrusts, Kurt followed.

"That was better," Kurt mumbled sleepily, rolling off Blaine and entangling their limbs. "Good position. My favorite."

The dark-haired boy nodded, too caught up in his own bliss to point out they had only tried two relatively similar positions. "Too fast. Sorry."

"Hmm. S'okay. Watching you come undone …." Kurt made a sound in the back of his throat very much like the one he made when he came.

Blaine thought about telling Kurt what had triggered such a quick release. But he couldn't admit it out loud just yet, wasn't sure exactly what it said about him. He reasoned that it was too soon to talk about tops and bottoms when they'd just started exploring each other.

"Hmm. I shouldn't have gelled my hair. Would have been better for you."

Kurt shifted so he was on his side, one leg still crooked over Blaine's lower abdomen. "Well, we probably should take showers before we go to the opera."

"Yeah, okay," he grinned stupidly. "I'll wear my curls and glasses for you."

An hour later, they departed the Anderson home dressed for the opera. Kurt had taken to staring wide-eyed at his curly-haired, bespectacled boyfriend too often to be trusted behind the wheel, so Blaine drove the Navigator to the OSU campus.

**o o o**

Nick pressed his finger to the doorbell beside the Fabray's handsome cherry front door at exactly six o'clock. He would never admit to anyone that he had arrived ten minutes early and parked around the corner, watching the digital numbers on the dash flip forward. Nor would he admit that he'd wasted two minutes in the Fabray's driveway checking his appearance in the car windows. At least he was confident that his white pinstripe slacks, cream button down with the striped green tie, and cream cardigan were all in place.

A middle-aged blonde woman wearing a little too much makeup and a too bring smile opened the door a moment later. Nick put on a smile to hide his nerves. It felt plastic to him, but he knew from years of pretending for the cameras that it worked.

"Hello, Mrs. Fabray. I'm Nick Duval. I'm here to pick up Quinn."

"Of course. Please, come in."

Quinn's mother stepped aside and welcomed him into a foyer leading into a living room that could have been featured in _Better Homes and Gardens_. Nick wouldn't have been surprised if it had been and Mrs. Fabray had designed from the picture. He had spent a lot of time around this class of people – upper middle class, just shy of upper class – during his father's campaigns, and he knew how they worked to impress.

"You have a lovely home, Mrs. Fabray."

The platitude rolled off his tongue so easily it scared him a little. The only time he'd genuinely given that compliment was to Mrs. Hummel earlier in the day when he'd brought over outfit choices for Kurt's approval. A house with a personal touch was all he'd ever wanted.

"Thank you, Nick. Quinn will be down in just a moment."

Nick made small talk with Quinn's mother while they waited at the bottom of the stairs. He learned a lot about her from those few minutes, and it took all his willpower not to laugh out loud at how his father would react to Nick associating with a conservative family. But then the mirth died away as he realized his father would twist it into political leverage.

Quinn picked that moment to appear on the stairs, beautiful in a white dress and bright green scarf. He greeted her with a light kiss to the back of her hand before presenting the bouquet of pink and yellow flowers he didn't know the name of.

"They're beautiful, Nick. Thank you." Quinn brought the flowers up to her nose and inhaled the sweet scent. "Mom, can you put these in a vase and put them in my room?"

Mrs. Fabray was eager to help. She said good-bye to Nick and Quinn with her too bright smile, and Nick guided his date out to his Audi. She paused for a minute before slipping into the passenger seat, and he tried not to read too much into it. On his sixteenth birthday, he had picked the Audi sedan because it was flashy enough to satiate his parents' need for luxury without being extravagant.

On the drive to Columbus, Nick turned his attention to finding out as much about Quinn as possible without subjecting her to an interrogation. He let her tune the radio and found out that she liked older R&B and soul music, which was the very last thing he'd expect of her.

"And here I thought New Directions were only allowed to listen to classic rock," he joked. The comment didn't exactly work since he knew Kurt's fondness for show tunes and empowering pop artists, but Quinn didn't notice or let it slide.

"Oh, that's all Mr. Schue. We have seriously held cabals before. We even mutinied once and only relented after he included Rhianna in the mash-up."

"If I tell you something, will you promise to never, ever mention it to Wes? I don't want to be beaten to death with his gavel." Quinn nodded, intrigued. "It's always been my secret goal to stage a coup-d'état against the Council."

"Really?" She laughed and shook her head. "But why? It seems like such a good system you have – a democracy to our monarchy, if you will."

"Yeah, but that kind of makes it worse. We can share our opinion, which makes it seem like we're advisors, but the Council gets the final decision. It's like taxation without representation. I joined the Warblers my freshmen year, and since the first meeting, I've daydreamed about a having a Dalton Tea Party one night."

Quinn snickered into her hand. "You're such a nerd, Nick Warbler."

He started at the name. Blaine had said once that New Directions called him Blaine Warbler as a term of endearment. He couldn't resist the goofy smile on his lips hearing Quinn call him Nick Warbler.

They had an easy conversation the rest of the drive to Columbus. Nick admitted that, in addition to being a Warbler, he was a Mathlete, math and science tutor, and Student Senator. Quinn looked equal parts amused and impressed. He found out she used to be a cheerleader, but quit at the beginning of the semester because the coach lost her ever-loving mind, and she had an older sister she didn't see nearly as much as she wanted to.

At the restaurant, Nick opened the door for Quinn, tucked the valet ticket into his pocket, and offered Quinn his arm as the doorman welcomed them to Element. She slipped her hand into the crook of his arm and took in the ambiance of the most upscale restaurant she had ever been to. The low luminance of the recessed bulbs cast long shadows over the sea of charcoal gray carpet, tables, and curved pillars.

"Reservation for Duval," Nick told the maître d', while Quinn continued to peer around. Element looked more like an art gallery than a restaurant, and she felt underdressed in her simple white dress. She silently thanked Kurt for recommending the scarf, as it added a touch of class required for a place like this.

The maître d' led them to a table for two against one of the towering sculptured pillars in the middle of the open seating space. The pillar gave them a kind of privacy not afforded other tables. Quinn sat as Nick pushed her chair in and blinked at the amount of cutlery on the table. She refused to appear overwhelmed and betray the fact that she had never been to any place as chic. Instead of focusing on her own unease, she thought about the effort Nick had made tonight and how much he was lavishing her.

Clearly, this date was planned to impress Quinn, and Nick's idea of a good impression wasn't Breadstix and a movie at the Cineplex with sticky floors. He had nice clothes, flowers, compliments for her mother, reservations, concert tickets …. This was a date from a John Hughes movie, and she, Quinn Fabray, was Molly Ringwald!

Suddenly, it was easier to smile and laugh.

The menu – the name of the dish, bolded, followed by a brief description – came on a single half sheet of quality paper secured to a leather placard. No pictures, no prices. Nick looked not the least concerned by this. He ordered the Mahi Mahi with Avacado and some other main ingredient Quinn had never heard of before. She opted for the only dish with all familiar ingredients, something like Chicken Milanese but with a much longer, much more descriptive name.

"I meant to ask you earlier," Quinn began, and paused to wait for their server to refill their drinks. "We're going to be getting back late from the concert. Shouldn't I have met you in Westerville?"

He seemed genuinely amused by the idea. "I don't have a curfew."

"I was actually referring to the long drive late at night after you take me home. It would have made sense for me to come to your house since you live so much closer to Columbus."

"But then I would have had less time with you." Quinn tried not to look too happy, but her heart fluttered in her chest. "You don't need to worry, though. I'm staying with Kurt tonight. His stepmom pretty much insisted when I was over there today."

Quinn took a sip of her water and set the glass down. "Carole is a very special woman. She took care of me at a time when no one else would, not even my own parents." If Nick heard the "would" instead of "could" he said nothing about it, so Quinn changed the subject before he did. "You're really good friends with Kurt, aren't you?"

"Oh, yeah! Kurt is amazing. All the Warblers love him, but I like to think he's closest to Jeff and I – and Blaine, obviously. Okay, fine. He's closest to Blaine, but Jeff and I are close seconds." Her eyes widened a little at the sentiment. "What? Oh, no. Don't tell me some other Warblers are trying to usurp our places!" he joked.

"No, it's just …. Not many guys would have said that quite like you did. You really don't have a problem with it do you?"

"If by "it" you mean Kurt and Blaine being gay and boyfriends, then no. Of course I don't. Why would I? They're happy together and with who they are. I'd be a pretty poor friend if that didn't make me happy too."

Quinn pretended to smooth out the linen napkin on her lap to give herself a moment. Acceptance was a precious commodity for a girl with her past. She willed herself not to dare to hope that she could find it with this boy – this intelligent, handsome, popular, talented, charming boy.

Nick picked up the check and tipped the valet without batting an eyelash. On the way to the concert, they blasted Elvis Costello and belted out the lyrics unabashed. Nick's personal favorite song was "Watching the Detectives," but Quinn put so much emotion into "This House is Empty Now" that he thought he'd learned more about her in three and a half minutes than in the three weeks they'd known each other.

"_These walls were lined with pictures__  
><em>_Remember the glass we charged in celebration?__  
><em>_But now I fill my life up__  
><em>_With all that I can to deaden this sensation._"

He parked at the venue, but let the car idle long enough for Quinn to finish the song. She looked startled when she realized they had arrived already. Nick said nothing about it, just jogged around the car to open the door for her. They joined the throng of concert-goers at the pavilion entrance and picked their way through the madness to their seats on the floor.

Once the concert began, they had no chance to talk. Occasionally, they took breaks from singing, dancing, and jumping around to yell "I love this song!" into each other's ears. Nick thought the concert was worth every penny he'd shelled out to the online scalper, but he would have paid triple to be at the concert with Quinn. When the music blared through the speakers, and Elvis Costello captured her attention on stage, she lost the aloof quality altogether. He found himself watching her as much as the show and wishing he could remember Sectionals, and her duet specifically, better.

The entire drive back to Lima consisted of rehashing their favorite moments in the concert at ridiculous volumes because their ears were still ringing. The iPod connected to the sound system continued to play Elvis Costello, but neither Nick nor Quinn was interested in singing along just then.

As Nick walked her to the front door, Quinn wondered if all was about to be ruined by the to-kiss-or-not-to-kiss moment. She was opposed to kissing on the first date, but almost hoped he tried to make a move, just so she had something to hold against him. Right now, Nick seemed too perfect to exist.

"I had a great time tonight, Quinn," he said, delivering her to the front steps. "I'd like to take you out again, if you had fun too."

"Yeah, I'd like that." She averted her eyes, blushing slightly.

Nick beamed. "What are you doing Wednesday?"

"What?" she chuckled. "You have a date idea already?"

"I was going to suggest Wednesday as our first date, but I got impatient so I asked you to come out tonight too. So are you free Wednesday night?"

Quinn wanted to make a quip, but found her brain unable to produce any witticisms at the moment. "Yes, I am. What am I agreeing to do with you?"

"The Warblers are singing at a charity dinner sponsored by an alumnus, and we each get a plus one. What do you say to fancy dresses and ballrooms?"

"Yes."

He grinned in that joyfully boyish way that set Quinn's heart thumping in her chest. "Well, I should get going, I guess. I don't want to keep the Hudson-Hummels up too late waiting for me. I'll see you at rehearsal on Monday?"

Quinn watched him leave with a smile plastered on her lips. When she went inside, she sighed and slumped against the door. Her mom hadn't waited up, but left the light on in the hallway. Quinn flipped it off and made her way upstairs to her bedroom. She had just changed into her pajamas and slid into bed when her phone lit up with a text.

_I know it's tragically uncool to start sending these so soon, but I can't help myself … Goodnight, Quinn. –Nick_

_Goodnight, Nick. –Quinn_

She fell asleep with the phone in her palm and a smile on her lips, feeling even more like the heroine in a romantic movie.


	6. Warblers, Starlings, and Fledglings

**Author's Note:** The full cast list can be found here (remove the spaces): h t t p : / / arainymonday . wordpress . com / 2011 / 07 / 05 / a-fine-frenzy-cast-list

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Six <strong>  
><strong>Warblers, Starlings, and Fledglings<strong>

_Last week of June_

On Monday, Mr. Schuester began rehearsal by announcing that Miss Pillsbury had begun making costumes and needed volunteers to help her when they weren't on stage. Kurt and Cameron practically leapt out of their chairs at the request; Tina, Mercedes, and Jeff also offered their help at a much more reasonable level of interest.

"Great. And one final thing," Mr. Schue said, "we need to spend the second half of rehearsal today working specifically with those of you who have to leave at two on Wednesday. Warblers, be ready with your Act IV songs after lunch."

Puck scoffed. "Why do they get to leave early on Wednesday? Do you know how many pools I could clean in an afternoon?"

"The Warblers are giving a performance at a charity dinner on Wednesday, and I promised at the beginning of the summer to accommodate everyone's performance schedules," the teacher answered.

"Wait," Kurt said, turning sideways to see Blaine. "You're leaving early Wednesday? We're not driving to Dalton together?"

"It's okay," Quinn said, leaning forward and putting a hand on Kurt's shoulder to draw his attention to her. "We can drive to Westerville together."

Kurt's neck whipped around to gaze steadily at Nick, who had chosen to sit next to Quinn today. The countertenor noticed they held hands. With a delicately arched brow, Kurt nodded. The rest of New Directions gradually put two-and-two together and began to whisper. Quinn looked incredibly pleased to be the center of attention.

"No after rehearsal dinner at Breadstix? But I'm gonna have to spend all night at home with my brother, and he probably won't survive until morning if I do," Mercedes said, only half joking.

"Okay, then," Mr. Schue said, smiling fondly at memories of Kellan Jones from Spanish class. "Act III Scene I."

It happened that everyone who volunteered to help with the costumes was in the scene, so Miss Pillsbury joined Mr. Schuester at the director's table and watched until some of her volunteers completed their scenes. She clapped wildly after Titania's fairies finished singing "A Sprite's Eye," much to Tina, Mercedes, Brittany, Cameron, and James's delight.

As they moved on to Scene II, Mercedes, Tina, Cameron, and Jeff followed the guidance councilor into the wings to look at the costumes she had made so far and get instructions on what she needed them to do. Cameron seized the BeDazzler and refused to let it go, even when Jeff tried to physically wrestle it from him.

"Let. Go. No. Sparkles," Jeff grunted.

"Yes. Sparkles!"

Cameron twisted around, but the blond was sufficiently tall enough to accommodate by moving his arms over and around Cameron. It ended up that Cameron and Jeff pressed together back-to-front with Jeff's arms securely around Cameron and his hands clasped in a vice-grip on the BeDazzler. The smaller boy thought jumping might be his means of escape, so he bounced on his feet, hoping to smash his skull into Jeff's chin. The taller boy leaned back every time he jumped, however, which only lifted Cameron higher off the ground.

Mercedes and Tina stood off to the side, giggling at the struggle. Miss Pillsbury looked too shocked by the "fight" to know exactly how to react. She had seen fights break out between boys before, but never over a BeDazzler and never with _hugging_as the primary means of defense.

"Okay, boys," Miss Pillsbury began, "while this is very amusing, it's not actually very productive. How about a compromise? Sparkles on the girls' clothes only?"

"And mine, James, and Kurt's," Cameron added.

The teacher paused, considering. "Okay."

Jeff released the BeDazzler unexpectedly quickly, and Cameron crumpled to the floor. Tina helped him up and led him over to a rack of plain dresses Miss Pillsbury had sewn according to each girl's measurements. Cameron and the BeDazzler could go crazy on embellishing the costumes and no one would complain.

"I guess that leaves us to the boys' costumes," Jeff said to Mercedes.

They wheeled the rack of hose and doublets over to a set of risers at the back of the wings and got to work pinning the embroidery to the tunics. It only took three minutes for Mercedes to express concern over how many times Jeff poked himself in the finger.

"Nah, I'm fine," Jeff said, shrugging.

"All right. Then let me just say that whoever wears that tunic better be okay with having bloodstains all over their clothes, because if you keep jamming pins into yourself, you're going to bleed all over it." Mercedes examined the line of ribbon and cocked en eyebrow. "Boy, what the hell are you doing? This is crooked, and you're putting the pins in the wrong direction."

Jeff flushed scarlet. "Oh. Sorry. I've never actually sewn – or, well, _pinned_– anything before."

"Then why did you volunteer to help with costumes?"

A twinge of pink appeared on Jeff's pale cheeks, and Mercedes about fell off the risers when he peered at her through his blonde fringe with those piercing green eyes. "Well, because you did."

Oh sweet Lord Above, the universe had a twisted sense of humor. She had gone for two years without a single boy being seriously into her – because Anthony didn't really count and Puck definitely didn't – and just when she found one who liked her, another came along saying he liked her too.

"Don't even play like that. From what Kurt's told me, I'm not your type at all," she said, hoping to deflect the attention without even hinting at her relationship with Sam.

"Oh? What did Kurt tell you?"

"That when he transferred to Dalton, you flirted with him like a lovestruck fool until you realized he was secretly in love with Blaine." That came out blunt, even for Mercedes, but she didn't like the teasing tone in his voice. She needed to stop this before it went too far.

"Of course I did. I like divas. That makes you my type too. So I guess the real question is whether tall, floppy blond-haired, musical jocks are _your _type?"

Mercedes was still trying to wrap her head about the concept of this boy liking her _and_Kurt when he brought her up short. "Jock?"

"Yeah," he laughed. "Did you think Warblers couldn't be athletes? I'm on the baseball and swim teams." Mercedes wanted so desperately to laugh. "Anyway, I wondered if you wanted to go to the charity dinner as my date? Kurt and Quinn will be there, so you'll know some people. And Warbler after parties are legendary."

The pounding of many sets of sneakers on the stage floor shortly preceded Nick, Thad, Sam, Lauren, and Santana appearing around the stage curtains. Nick and Thad made a beeline for Jeff and Mercedes, looking positively gleeful.

"We heard Jeff getting yelled at and couldn't resist," Thad explained, throwing himself onto the risers next to his fellow Warblers.

"But I think we interrupted something," Lauren said pointedly.

Mercedes's eyes widened and moved from Lauren's intrigued face to Sam, who hung back from the group with his arms crossed. His mouth had set in a firm line, and he refused to meet her eye. She feared her friends could hear her heart thudding in her chest.

"Well," Santana said, sitting down beside her and nudging her with a shoulder. "Answer the man, Mercedes!"

Mercedes tried again to catch Sam's gaze, but he had physically turned away from her now. Lauren and Santana both gave her meaningful looks, the kind that clearly says: "Are you out of your mind! Why haven't you said yes already!" For all they knew, she had no reason to say no to Jeff. If she did turn him down, they would all want to know why. A flimsy excuse about family commitments wouldn't fly this time. She had already stuck her foot in it by saying she was free in front of the whole group.

"Yeah, okay," she said, turning to Jeff. "It sounds like fun."

Sam walked out the stage right door without a word.

**o o o**

Rachel arched an eyebrow at her boyfriend and waited for a better explanation than the one Finn had just given her. The tall boy shifted awkwardly under her gaze.

"What do you mean it's "Gay Day" in the Hudson-Hummel home?" she asked.

"That's what Kurt and I agreed to call it. It's the day when he invites all his gay friends over to do gay guy stuff." Rachel's eyebrows disappeared into her hair. "Today they're watching an _America's Next Top Model_marathon."

"I seriously doubt Kurt agreed to that name. Anyway, my presence for five minutes in the kitchen while I get a Coke and make a sandwich won't interrupt them at all." Rachel stood up and moved to open Finn's bedroom door, but he caught her at the last minute.

"Rachel, no. I promised Kurt nobody would interrupt them today." He shifted under her knowing glare. "And tomorrow I'm having the guys over for a Call of Duty marathon, so …."

"Finn," she sounded exasperated, "I have been singing and dancing in your bedroom for four hours, I didn't have breakfast this morning, and I'm hungry."

"I'll go make you a sandwich! Yeah, that way I know Kurt won't be disturbed, and I get to pamper you."

Placated, Rachel sat down on his bed and began flipping through her script again. Finn stole out of his room and tiptoed down the hall to the stairs. He felt like a superspy creeping along the wall, pausing every few moments to listen for any of the guys coming up the stairs. He had strict instructions from Kurt to be neither seen nor heard. Finn tripped on the second to last step, but caught himself on the banister, and swung – rather gracefully for Finn – upright again.

"What are you talking about? She's the hottest model in the group!"

Finn paused in the space between living room and kitchen. One of Kurt's gay friends had just called a woman hot? That didn't sound right to Finn. Gay guys weren't supposed to notice things like boobs and butts. Well, not girl butts.

He padded to the corner and peered around into the living room, silently praising himself on his stealthy spy skills. Kurt and Blaine sat on one sofa, Blaine between Kurt's legs and leaning against his chest. They looked really cute like that, and a lopsided grin popped onto Finn's lips. Jeff occupied the armchair, and Cameron, who Finn didn't know very well, lay on the floor in front of the television. Finn did a double take, but realized that the boy really did have on a dress. Someone else was in the room with them, though, stretched out on the couch Finn couldn't see from his vantage point.

"What is so great about her?" Blaine asked, frowning. "She's … ordinary."

"Did you see that pose she just did? It's like she's inviting America to fuck her senseless," the other boy scoffed.

"Can we not objectify these women?" Cameron snapped. "I mean, anymore than fashion already does. And cross your legs until it goes away, please."

Finn stood spellbound by the conversation. It sounded so much like what he talked about when he hung out with the guys from glee. He kind of wanted to join his brothers' friends for the marathon just to hear more. He thought Kurt would probably let him, even though he was straight, but he had Rachel waiting upstairs.

"That was pretty crass, Nick," Blaine agreed.

_Nick?_He was so startled to hear that name, his grip on the inverted corner slipped, and he crashed sideways into the living room. The tall boy tried to right himself, overcorrected, and plowed into the middle of the sitting room before falling to the floor. Five pairs of eyes stared at his prone form.

"You could have just asked if you wanted to watch with us," Cameron commented.

Finn had landed on his back, his head level with Cameron's waist. He grinned, but it faded the next moment when he realized Kurt loomed over him. If Kurt had made Blaine move, it could only mean his brother wanted a word. Finn struggled to his feet and followed Kurt into the kitchen.

"I thought we had an agreement, Finn," Kurt said, sounding annoyed. "Sometimes I need to spend time with friends who understand everything about me."

"I totally get you, dude."

"You don't understand everything about my sexuality," Kurt clarified.

"Yeah, well …. Neither does Nick! Why is that guy even here? He's dating Quinn or whatever now, so he's straight, right? It's supposed to be Gay Day."

"Firstly, Finn, we agreed to _not_call it Gay Day. Secondly, Nick is here because we're friends. He might be straight, but he tries really hard to understand how life is different for his GLBT friends."

"I have no idea what that – "

"Gay-Lesbian-Bisexual-Transgender."

"Oh," Finn said, comprehension dawning. "That's why Cameron is wearing a dress." His expression melted into unease as he thought about what that meant a little more. He subconsciously touched the front of his pants to make sure his dick was still there. Kurt looked furious, so he added in a small voice, "Not judging."

"Good. So go back upstairs – "

"Wait! I have to make Rachel a sandwich. Her blood sugar is getting low, plus she's Rachel, so …."

The shorter boy nodded once. "Fine. Then go back upstairs and stay there."

Kurt had made it halfway back to the living room when Finn called out for him. "Hey, Kurt. You know I'm just trying to look out for you, right?"

"What?" Kurt came back into the kitchen looking confused. "What do you mean, Finn?"

"Well, it's just that I've been in a couple relationships, and I've made some mistakes and learned some things. And you're my little brother, so I want to help you out with your first relationship if I can."

"You want to give me advice? Finn, that's really touching. Okay, go ahead."

Finn fidgeted, suddenly self-conscious now that his brother waited for his words of wisdom. "Okay, so things got messed up with Quinn because I spent time with Rachel – "

" – and because she cheated on you and got pregnant."

" – and then things got messed up with Quinn again because – "

"Finn, can we skip the New Directions history lesson?"

"Oh, yeah. So, my advice is that you shouldn't spend time with other guys."

Kurt blinked. He looked disappointed, but quickly replaced it with his usual sass. "Well, then I guess I should go back into the living room to get away from you. When I get there, I'll tell Blaine he's not allowed to go to school ever again."

"No, I mean, like, you can't have just one guy over here alone for sleepovers."

"Oh my God," the smaller boy murmured, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Finn, sleepovers with gay guys – straight girls, for you – will never be allowed in this house. But I thank you for your concern."

"I'm serious, Kurt!" Finn sounded desperate. He needed to get this through his brother's head. "Blaine is really good for you, and I don't want to see you lose him like I lost Rachel. That hurt me so bad, and I want you to always be happy."

Kurt gazed at him with some emotion Finn couldn't name, but it made him feel the same way he had at their parents' wedding when they danced together.

"Thank you, Finn," Kurt said in a soft voice. "Blaine knows how much I love him, and I would never hurt him. I promise to … keep in mind what you've said."

The taller boy nodded, pleased with himself. "Hey, Kurt. I know I don't always understand your GL … uh, B … T stuff – " Kurt smiled affectionately up at him. " – but I'm your brother, and if you ever want to talk about guy stuff, I'm totally here for you, dude."

"Guy stuff?" Kurt wanted clarification.

"Yeah, like, with dating and stuff."

"Sex?" his brother challenged.

"Sure. I mean, we've got the same parts, right? So it's not like it can be _that_different. Can it?"

Kurt looked highly amused as he made his way back into the living room and snuggled up with Blaine on the couch again.

**o o o**

Mercedes knocked on the door of the motel room and stood back to wait for an answer. She had been sending texts since Sam disappeared from rehearsal yesterday, but he hadn't responded to any of them. She had tried calling, but it always rang to voicemail. Clearly, Sam wanted to avoid her.

Stevie opened the door with an excited squeal and hugged Mercedes around the waist. Sam rose from the bed slowly, laying his guitar down flat as he did. He stared at Mercedes for a minute before shooing his siblings onto the bed to watch the rest of _Sleeping Beauty_.

"You guys stay inside. I'll be right outside, okay?"

Sam walked past Mercedes, pulling the door closed, and led her across the parking lot to a patch of concrete illuminated by the streetlamp. Far enough away, she realized, to shield his siblings from anything they might overhear.

"Why are you here?" he asked. "Shouldn't you be out shopping for a dress for your date?"

She let out shuddering breath. This is exactly what she had been afraid would happen. "Let me explain, please, Sam. After how understanding I've been with you, I think I deserve the benefit of the doubt this once."

He shoved his fists into his pockets and glanced away. "You might have forgotten that Quinn cheated on me and Santana left me for _Karofsky_, but I can't." He faced her again with a steely expression. "I thought it would be different with you, Mercedes. You're kind and moral and a good person. I just don't get what I've done to deserve all of this – the cheating girlfriends, being homeless. I try to do the right thing and be honorable. I've never slushied anyone or cheated or bullied anyone. I'm a nice guy, right? So why can't something, _anything_go right for me?"

Mercedes felt her heart breaking, and her lips trembled with her struggle to hold back her tears. "Oh, Sam." She lost the battle and tears trailed down her cheeks. "I am so, _so_sorry. I didn't know what to do when Jeff asked me out. I was so shocked, and he'd caught me off guard just before he asked, and then everyone showed up looking at me like I had no reason to say no to him. I didn't know how to decline without giving away what's going on between us." She took a deep, shuddering breath. "But that's no excuse for hurting you, Sam. I should have thought of a reason or held my breath until I fainted or something."

She thought she saw the ghost of a smile twitch in the corner of Sam's mouth.

"You're right, Sam. You are a nice guy. Hell, you're the _perfect_guy, and I am so lucky to have you." She paused abruptly, realizing that wasn't the case anymore. "Or, well …. I know you probably hate me right now and don't want to be with me anymore. I can understand that. It kills me because I've been waiting for you for so long, but I get that you can't be with someone you don't trust, and after what I – "

Sam's lips on hers shut Mercedes up. She stood rigidly for a moment until her brain caught up with the kiss, and then she put every ounce of emotion she felt into it. Mercedes grabbed Sam's arms at the elbow bend to steady herself as she stretched up, and he slid his arms to her hips for balance. He licked impatiently at her top lip, and her lips parted instantly to allow him access.

A long, drawn out "_Ewwwwww!_" interrupted them. Stevie and Stacy stood in the illuminated doorway, both with faces scrunched up.

"I'll be in in a minute," Sam called. The kids scurried back into the room, but their impish faces appeared at the window the next moment. "So I guess we have to keep this PG now …."

"Yeah." Mercedes schooled her features again. "I'm gonna fix this, Sam. I won't go to the dinner with Jeff. I'll come up with some excuse to give Kurt and Quinn, and I'll call Jeff and let him down easy."

"Maybe you should just – "

"No! You're my boyfriend, and I'm not going on a date with anyone else but you."

"But we haven't gone on any dates because I can't afford to take you out. Maybe you should go to this charity dinner and enjoy a night out. Just promise you'll only go with Jeff as friends."

"No." Sam tried to protest again, but Mercedes held up a warning finger. "And that's final. One day soon, things will turn around. Until then, movie nights and playgrounds are good enough for me."

An hour later, Mercedes sat on her bed with her ringing phone pressed to her ear. She didn't relish what she had to do, but thinking about Sam's heart wrenching speech gave her the courage to go through with it.

"_Hello?_"

"Hi, Jeff. It's Mercedes." She decided to jump in with both feet before they could get distracted by flirting and tangential conversations. "I need to talk to you about the charity dinner."

"_Okay._" He sounded unsure.

Mercedes took a breath. "There's something going on that I really need to keep secret for someone else's sake. I really hurt him today when I agreed to go with you to the charity dinner, and I've got to make that right. But I don't want to hurt you either, Jeff, so I'm going to be honest with you."

"_You have a secret boyfriend._" Mercedes froze and panic set in. If Jeff could guess so easily, who else knew? "_So who is it?_" She didn't say anything. "_Come on, Mercedes, I at least deserve to know who I lost to._"

His voice sounded so … normal, like he recovered from the rejection already. Mercedes felt foolishly offended and not quite so sorry about letting him down now.

"_You McKinley divas are going to be the death of me! You know, it took Kurt weeks to admit to me how much he liked Blaine, as if I couldn't see it plain as day. Just tell me who your boyfriend is, Mercedes, because I already know._"

"No, you don't," she insisted.

"_Right. So I asked you if tall, floppy blond-haired, musical jocks are your type because I didn't notice anything at all._" She made a choked sound, and Jeff chuckled. "_I just didn't realize you two were together already._"

"Why are you being so cool about this?" she demanded, at last. "If some guy called me up with this story, I'd be screaming down his phone."

"_That's because you're a diva_," Jeff laughed. "_Anyway, there's a cute fashionista whose been coming to see my band's shows every weekend for a couple months. I can tell he's trying to impress me, and I think it's about time I asked him out._"

"Your fluid sexuality makes me a little uncomfortable," Mercedes admitted, which earned a laugh from the other end of the line. "And you're way too easy going for my nerves to handle." That produced another hearty guffaw. "But I see why Kurt gets along with you so well. Hell, why _everyone_gets along with you so well."

They talked for a few more minutes, mainly about this handsome fashionista who was supposed to take Mercedes's place at the charity dinner, before they hung up. Mercedes stared at her phone for a full two minutes and then shook her head.

"Why are you staring at your phone when there's ice cream that needs eating?" Kellan asked, popping his head into his sister's room without knocking.

"Because I finally understand the saying live and let live."

"Does that mean I can eat your share of the ice cream?"

Mercedes threw a decorative pillow at her brother's head and raced him down to the kitchen.

**o o o**

Much to Mr. Schuester's chagrin, Kurt insisted on leaving rehearsal early on Wednesday. Quinn quickly latched on to his argument that there simply would not be enough time for him to get ready and drive to Westerville otherwise. The glee teacher had reluctantly scrapped the idea of rehearsing at all and declared the afternoon devoted to set design.

"Wait," Kurt said, just outside the auditorium doors. Quinn halted in the carpeted vestibule. "Where is Mercedes?"

The blonde linked her arm in Kurt's and began walking to the school's rear exit and parking lot. She shared the whispered conversation she'd had with Mercedes while Kurt ran his lines on stage. Apparently, Kurt also did not buy the girl's excuse for skipping the charity dinner.

"You're joking." He frowned deeply when Quinn shook her head. "Have her parents ever grounded her before?"

"No, but even if they had – "

" – the reason for the grounding is suspect, I know. Why would she have said _that_to her mom in the first place? She has a great relationship with her mom."

As they exited the building, Quinn told Kurt about the talk she'd had with Mercedes at the mall. He gripped her arm tightly at the part about seeing secrets everywhere. Kurt and Quinn had never been the best of friends, but they shared Mercedes in common, and something was definitely wrong with their friend.

"Let's watch out for her and share anything we learn, okay? But right now, we have more important matters at hand: getting ready for the charity dinner."

They drove off in their separate cars with plans for Kurt to pick Quinn up at five o'clock since dinner would be served at six-thirty (with the Warblers performing at eight o'clock).

For the occasion, Kurt had selected a slim, military cut three piece suit in tweed pattern paired with a pink undershirt and red plaid tie. His hair he teased into a pompadour and coated in hairspray. Carole let out a playful whistle when he came down the stairs, and Burt craned around his in armchair.

"The things you can pull off, kid," Burt said around a smile. "Have fun tonight. Curfew is midnight."

"But the dinner isn't even over until eleven, and the Warblers always have an after party. Plus, I'm driving Quinn back and – "

"All right, all right," Burt relented. "Three. But only this once, and Finn gets a pass too that you can't complain about. And if Quinn's mom wants her back sooner, you make sure she's back."

Kurt promised, kissed his dad and Carole on the cheeks, and bounced out to his Navigator. He texted Quinn to let her know he was on the way. She came out her front door as soon as he pulled up. She had shown him a picture of her dress ahead of time to make sure it was appropriate for a Dalton gathering. He thoroughly approved of her little white dress with a strapless, fitted bodice and lacy skirt separated by asymmetrical black ribbon belts. She had added a string of pearls without his consent, but it worked.

"If I may say so, Quinn, your style has improved since you started trying to impress Nick. Preppy chic works so well for you."

She frowned a little as she checked her hair in the sun visor mirror. "It's a lot more work to doing a formal up style with shoulder length hair."

Kurt glanced away from the road. "Take it down and use one of your ribbon belts as a headband. Don't worry!" he rushed, seeing her concern. "It won't look like one of Rachel's monstrosities if you frame it with a big curl on one side and angle the bow."

Quinn adjusted the ribbon headband according to Kurt's instructions and beamed at him. "You're a natural, Kurt."

"It's nice to have someone who actually listens to my advice. Mercedes and Rachel stubbornly ignore all my constructive criticism."

Kurt parked in the Dalton lot just after six o'clock and opened the passenger door for Quinn. Acting the gentleman for a girl made him giggle under his breath, but she didn't notice. The sheer splendor of Dalton captured all her attention. Kurt gazed fondly at the white pillars rising above his old school and led Quinn through the geometric wrought iron gates down the cobblestone pathway, around the statue of William Dalton, and through the lawns.

"A place like this cannot really exist in Ohio," Quinn said, still staring around in awe.

Kurt chuckled lightly as he maneuvered them into a crowd of dinner guests filing into the main entrance from the north and east parking lots. It pleased him to see he stood out in the crowd in his formal tan suit. Inside the atrium, Kurt delivered Quinn to Nick, who took over showing her around the school.

As he searched for his boyfriend, Kurt lamented that the Warblers had to wear uniforms tonight. He would have liked to get Blaine into a fitted hunter green suit or even just a high-end black suit to better compliment Kurt's own unique palette.

"Excuse me. Can I ask you a question?"

Kurt hadn't realized until he heard the familiar musical voice that he stood at the bottom of _that_staircase. His heart swelled in his chest, and knowing his script perfectly, turned to look up at his handsome boyfriend perched three steps up. He was unable to keep the lovestruck smile off his face.

They had seen each other just four hours ago, but the nostalgia of returning to Dalton for the first time since his transfer proved too much for Kurt. He bounded up the stairs and threw his arms around Blaine. They shared a passionate kiss heedless of the watching eyes. Every person in attendance sent their sons and daughters to Dalton and Crawford for a reason.

"Do you have time to run down an empty hallway holding hands with me?" Kurt asked breathlessly. Blaine's face took on a punch-drunk quality, and Kurt swore there were literally stars in his eyes. He laughed lightly. "Come on. Let's go find our seats. My dad extended my curfew, so we'll have plenty of time after the dinner to reacquaint ourselves with hallways and common rooms and private niches all we want."

While Blaine and Kurt reunited on the stairs, Nick had taken Quinn on a whirlwind tour of the school, making it a point to note the places where the Warblers were most likely to break out in song during the day. They came into the banquet room – Quinn didn't believe a school had a place dedicated to receptions until Nick pointed out the placard on the wall – with the other stragglers and made their way to the Warbler tables.

Quinn felt relieved that she wouldn't have to sit with Nick's parents when he left to perform. Each table sat ten, and Quinn found herself between Nick and Kurt. Also at their table were Richard and his girlfriend Honor, Wes and his girlfriend Rosalina, and Jeff and his date, a boy called Simon.

Honor and Rosalina wore uniforms similar to the Warblers, but their crest contained a C instead of a D. Honor wore her black hair in a pixie cut that highlighted the perfect angles of her prominent cheekbones. Rosalina (who preferred to be called Ros) wore no jewelry or accessories at all; her long, wavy red hair made her appearance unique without effort. Simon had spiky blond hair, a perpetual smile on his face, and wore a shiny red suit; he seemed totally unfazed by the double takes the metallic sheen of his clothes earned.

"Crawford, Dalton's sister school," Kurt supplied. "Their glee club is called the Starlings. They're performing tonight too."

Dinner consisted of four courses: fresh mozzarella salad, black bean soup, guinea hen with asparagus and red potatoes, and tiramisu. Quinn might have felt out of place during the dinner conversation as everyone else knew each other, but Dalton and Crawford students had impeccable manners. Honor took an immediate shining to Quinn over her dress.

"I wanted that dress the moment I saw it, but I would have never thought to pair it with a headband like that! They didn't display it like that in the catalog, but they should have. Where did you come up with the idea?"

Quinn glanced sidelong at Kurt who shook his head just slightly. She squeezed his fingers under the table, and he returned the gentle pressure.

"It's a funny story about our glee club, actually," the blonde began.

"Oh, you're in New Directions too?" Ros tuned into the conversation. "That's right! You had a duet at Sectionals, didn't you? You were amazing."

"Quinn is also one of our leads in _A Mid-Summer Night's Dream_," Wes supplied. "She's playing Helena."

Quinn didn't mind in the least that her story – which she had been making up and would have ended with a dig at Rachel – had been hijacked. Everyone began talking about glee club solos and musicals they had done or wanted to do once they were professional performers. She dropped out of the conversation for a moment, struggling to find her footing. Everyone at the table, every single person, honestly believed they could make it out of Ohio.

"Actually, Hedda Gabler is my dream role," she found herself saying.

Honor gasped. "Mine too! There just aren't enough complex female characters like her in the classic plays. Wouldn't it be great to star in a revival of _Hedda Gabler_? Maybe in the West End? So do you plan on studying acting in college?"

Quinn almost started to say no, that she would be majoring in general studies and go on to become a real estate agent. Except that, sitting in this grand room surrounded by these talented people, she suddenly saw a different future for herself, one that took place beyond Lima, Ohio.

"I'm not sure," she conceded, "but I definitely want to do something in the arts."

After dinner concluded, the Warblers and Starlings left the table for warm-ups leaving Kurt, Quinn, and Simon alone at the table. Kurt looked like he wanted to say something to Quinn, but instead directed his attention to Simon. The boy, it turned out, was actually nineteen and a student at the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York on summer break. Simon had moved to New York from Dublin, was staying with some friends he'd made in New York, and didn't seem the least bit concerned that Jeff was only seventeen.

"Well, your personalities certainly seem compatible," Kurt commented as the host for the evening stepped up to the microphone.

The three teenagers went silent and turned their attention to Dalton's Headmaster as he gave a short speech about the importance of environmentalism. Quinn tried not to notice they sat in a room with twenty-five foot ceilings, the hum of an air conditioner punctuated each silence in the speech, and the authentic 1900's windows surely leaked air constantly. After his closing remarks, the Headmaster invited the Headmaster of Crawford to speak, and the unintentional hypocrisy continued with a side of redundancy.

At last, the Warblers and Starlings took the stage. They traded off singing, but shared the same stage as backup dancers (if snap-step-turn could be considered choreography) on alternate numbers. Honor took the solo on "Parachute" by Ingrid Michaelson, and her sweet voice fit the song so perfectly Quinn wanted a recording of the performance. Ros had the lead on "Send Me A Song" by Lisa Kelly in a haunting alto key. The Warblers selected more upbeat songs with Blaine on lead for "Rumour Has It" by Adele and, surprisingly, Nick singing solo on U2's "Ultraviolet (Light My Way)."

Quinn's breath caught as the tempo of the closing song picked up, and she saw Nick looking directly at her as he came to the edge of the stage and sang:

"_Oh sugar, don't you cry__  
><em>_Oh child, wipe the tears from your eyes__  
><em>_You know I need you to be strong__  
><em>_And the day is as dark as the night is long__  
><em>_Feel like trash, you make me feel clean__  
><em>_I'm in the black, can't see or be seen_"

She felt shaky and nervous after the performance ended and Kurt whispered that the Warblers and Starlings would return to the table now. Quinn prided herself on playing her cards close to her chest. How had Nick read her so easily?

Music began playing from discrete speakers positioned around the dance floor, and Blaine appeared to whisk Kurt onto the dance floor. Nick appeared beside Quinn's chair a moment later. He held out his hand for her, but instead of navigating onto the dance floor, he led her out a side door.

The sun had dipped below the high rooftops of Dalton, but not set just yet. The half-twilight cast burning orange light and deep shadows onto the ground so that Quinn alternated between seeing too much and not nearly enough. She held on tighter to Nick's hand and let him lead her with sure footsteps.

They came at last to a small alcove draped in ivy just off the quad and hid under the shade of the trellises. Nick faced her now, but didn't release her hand.

"You were amazing up there, Nick. You stole the show from Blaine."

He didn't react the way she had expected. His brow furrowed slightly. "I'll have to apologize to him, but I'm happy you liked my performance. I had to practically sell my soul to the Council to get them to pick that song. We haven't known each other long, but I wanted you to know how I feel about you, Quinn."

"That's the way _you_ feel about _me_?" The lyrics replayed in her head, Bono's voice forever replaced with Nick's, and beamed at the nodding boy gradually pulling her closer.

"I wanted to sing that song to you so when I ask you to be my girlfriend, you know exactly how much it would mean to me if you said yes."

She couldn't stop grinning. "What is it with glee club guys? You can't say anything unless you sing it. Yes, Nick, I'll be your girlfriend."

He brushed his fingertips along Quinn's cheeks, over her jaw, and down her neck. She knew what was coming and relaxed into his sure grip as one hand moved to the back of her head and the other tilted her chin up just slightly. Her eyes slipped shut, and Nick closed the distance between their lips. His lips felt warm and rough against hers, an indefinable masculine quality that sent tinges across her skin.

"Can we stay out here all night?" Nick murmured against her mouth when they pulled back.

"Aren't I supposed to be meeting your parents?" she asked.

He took a step back, reluctantly letting go of her face and taking her hand instead. "They already left. I asked them to stay to meet you, but they had other commitments tonight. They left just after dinner."

She wanted to feel upset Nick's parents hadn't found meeting her important enough to stay for, but she heard more than Nick said: they hadn't prioritized watching their son's performance either. Quinn didn't know what to say, but she was saved the awkward silence by reentering the banquet hall.

Nick escorted her onto the dance floor in between parents and grandparents of Dalton and Crawford students. They ended up finding an empty space close to Wes and Ros, who rotated slowly in each other's arms. She also spotted Kurt and Blaine across the dance floor, their foreheads pressed together as they leaned into each other. At their table, Honor stood over Richard with her hands on her hips.

As Nick and Quinn danced, she was introduced to several other girls from Crawford and few former Warblers who had graduated in the past couple years. The night progressed without any of the drama of a McKinley event: no fist fights, no breakups, no temper tantrums. A few Warblers requested dances with Quinn, partly to bother Nick by cutting in and partly to get to know their friend's girlfriend better. She danced with Jeff, Luke, and Jesse before Blaine made his way over to her.

"We've spent a lot of time together on stage, but I feel like we've hardly talked," Blaine said, taking up her hand and placing the other on her waist.

"Rachel usually has your ear."

He grimaced. "Yeah, she does like to run her ideas by me. Kurt tells me I should learn how to cut her off, but as you can probably tell from tonight, rudeness isn't something we learn at Dalton."

So Blaine disliked Rachel's personality and attitude as much as everyone else. Quinn filed that knowledge away for future reference. Nick demanded his girlfriend back at the end of the dance and informed all the Warblers they were not to cut in for three more songs. Honor, wearing a cheeky grin, cut in halfway through the first song.

"Not a Warbler," she told Nick sweetly and spun Quinn around the dance floor. "Besides, Richard refuses to dance with me, but gets jealous if I dance with our friends. Uh, Quinn, would you mind leading since you're taller?"

The blonde laughed and took the lead. As they passed, Jeff let out a wolf whistle, and Honor kicked him in the shin. From there, the atmosphere only became more upbeat and silly. Formal dancing slowly gave way to impromptu dance moves until, eventually, Jeff and Simon organized a dance off. The Warblers, Starlings, and their dates gathered in a circle on the dance floor and took turns showing off their moves. The adults took that as their cue to leave and began filing out of the reception hall in small groups.

"Victory!" Ros cried, throwing up her hands when the last cluster of dinner guests left the room. "The Warblers-Starling after party can now begin!"

"Rosalina O'Callahan!" the Crawford Headmaster scolded. "You and all your glee club members will behave properly or there will be no more Warblers-Starlings parties. Ever."

"Yes, sir," Ros said, feigning contrition so well Quinn could just imagine her becoming a famous actress one day. "I apologize for getting carried away, sir."

The Headmasters shooed the glee clubs out of the school with the customary warnings about comporting themselves and driving carefully. They piled into a multitude of cars that formed a long procession through the streets of Westerville from Dalton to Nick's empty house for the after party.

If Dalton had surprised Quinn, it was nothing compared to seeing Nick's house for the first time. She knew he came from money, but hadn't guessed just how much. The house was so large she felt "house" was an inadequate description. When Kurt murmured "manor" in her ear, she only nodded. The inside had been decorated professionally (and ironically) in a silent movie theme.

"I don't know if you know this, Quinn," Kurt said, handing her a red Solo cup, "but you're an angry drunk."

She took a sip of the liquid in her cup and tasted only Coke. Kurt smiled beatifically at her and moved off, muttering about too many girls in the room and stopping Blaine from imbibing any alcohol.

The after party lasted into the wee hours of the morning, but Quinn and Kurt couldn't stay until the end. Their parents had caved to a later curfew, but sleeping over in a house with their boyfriends was out of the question. When the clock hands edged towards two o'clock, Quinn excused herself from the company of David's girlfriend Penelope (who insisted on being called Pen) to go find Kurt.

She searched through all the expected places – living room, dining room, kitchen, the other two living rooms, patio, and even what looked like a library. John told her with a suggestive eyebrow waggle that he had seen Blaine and Kurt going into one of the bedrooms upstairs. Quinn considered, and then took a seat at the top of the stairs. As much as she wanted to make curfew, she did not want to walk in on whatever base Kurt and Blaine had gotten to.

The two boys exited a bedroom decorated in shades of deep red and cream ten minutes later. Blaine looked dazed; Kurt looked wrecked. Quinn felt a perverse curiosity to know what could give Kurt that blissed out face. She rose from her seat, and her presence seemed to remind Kurt that they had to leave early. He turned to his boyfriend apologetically.

"I'm sorry. I lost track of time," Kurt mumbled into Blaine's ear.

Quinn skipped down the stairs to find Nick and have her own good-bye. She found her boyfriend at the dining room table playing beer pong with Ethan, Luke, and two Starling girls she hadn't been introduced to yet. The girls were clearly ahead. After a quick good-bye – she and Kurt were forty minutes behind schedule now – she met Kurt in the driveway. He still seemed a little shaky and out of it.

"I know you're really protective of your car, Kurt, but maybe I should drive?"

He flushed scarlet to his ears and wordlessly handed over his car keys. Quinn had to bite her tongue the whole way back to Lima to keep from saying anything about the sated, sleepy state of the boy in the passenger seat. But she had never seen anything like it before. She hardly remembered having sex with Puck, and Finn make stupid faces when he came, but went back to normal afterwards.

"Are you awake enough to drive yourself home from my house?" Quinn asked, instead of the other question on her tongue.

Kurt blushed again. "Yeah, uh … yeah."

She figured he would be even more embarrassed come tomorrow when he realized his post-orgasm high had been so obvious. Kurt flaunted his sexuality to show his bullies that he loved himself, but he never tried to make anyone else intentionally uncomfortable. Since her own sexual experience had been so visible sophomore year, she had become very sensitive to hearing about anyone else's. Intimate matters should stay private.

She watched Kurt back out of the driveway before tiptoeing up to her room, carefully hanging up her new favorite dress, and crawling into bed.

When Quinn woke up late Thursday morning and signed onto Facebook, she had sixteen new friend requests, three new event requests, and found pictures from the dinner and party on Honor's account, including one of Honor and Quinn captioned: _"My new friend Quinn Fabray! She's Ros's McKinley counterpart."_

Quinn didn't understand what exactly the comment meant, but from the many Starling comments below the picture, she gathered that was a compliment. She confirmed all the friend requests, said she would attend all the events, and tagged herself and added her comments to the pictures from last night. It took exactly thirteen minutes from accepting Ros's friend request and seventeen after confirming Honor's to receive a text.

_Come tanning by the pool with some Starlings today? –Ros _

_Starlings are swimming at Ros's today. Want to come? –Honor_

Quinn typed back her acceptance to both girls and basked in the feeling of being popular again.


	7. Teenage Cannon Fodder

**Chapter Seven**  
><strong>Teenage Cannon Fodder<strong>

_First week of July_

The Hudson-Hummels pulled out of the driveway at seven in the morning on July 4th to drive the two hours to King's Island. The Warblers had been there all weekend already performing twice a day in the King's Island Fourth of July Extravaganza. Blaine had sent texts and pictures, but the Hudson-Hummels hadn't been to see the show yet. Burt didn't want to close the shop until the holiday, and Carole wanted the whole family there to see the show. Kurt had been irritated that he wasn't allowed to go alone with his friends until he realized his parents wanted to support Blaine as well as make it a family day.

The drive to the amusement park stayed fairly quiet. Burt and Carole, accustomed to early mornings, chatted in the front seats with the radio playing classic rock softly. Their sons, however, had begun sleeping in later and later throughout June and slumped in the backseat for most of the ride. Finn dosed lightly while Kurt sipped at his coffee.

A text message arriving just as they pulled into the parking lot roused both boys. It had come to Kurt's phone.

_We just bought our tickets. Are you here yet? –Quinn_

Over the past week, Quinn had incorporated herself into the small group of Starlings who were dating Warblers. Ros, Honor, and Pen had taken Quinn in as one of their own since she was dating Nick and in a glee club. She had stayed the night with them and come to see the Warblers final performance.

_Just pulled in. Meet us at the gate in fifteen. –Kurt_

When Kurt looked up, he saw his brother frowning slightly. He quickly told Burt and Carole about the plan before they climbed out of the car and stretched their legs. He skipped forward to walk beside Finn with their parents a few steps back.

"Finn," he said slowly, "you look kind of upset."

The tall boy said nothing for awhile. "When did you and Quinn become such good friends?"

"We aren't. We just happen to have something in common now: Warbler boyfriends. You're upset that I'm talking to Quinn?"

Finn shrugged. "Only if she still believes what she used to about gay people."

"I don't think she does. I don't know if I'm responsible for that or not, but I think her attitude has changed entirely." He felt a blush creeping into his cheeks thinking about last Wednesday night. Quinn probably thought he was some kind of sex-crazed wanton, but she hadn't seemed any more awkward around him than she did Santana or Brittany. "Can I ask you something, Finn? You've been bringing up the topic of equality and gay rights a lot lately. Is there a reason?"

"You're my little brother."

"Yes, but you've been stepping so far out of your comfort zone I'm starting to get a little worried for you."

"You can't always trust everyone around you, but sometimes you're so close you can't see how someone is playing you. I'm just looking out for you."

Kurt frowned, not seeing where Quinn came into this discussion. She could be manipulative at times, but everyone had that in them. He broke off that train of thought when he saw the girl in question waving at him by the front gates.

Carole and Burt went to buy passes while Finn and Kurt met up with the other teenagers. The girls hugged Kurt tightly. He, too, was one of their own since he had a boyfriend in the Warblers and sang in a glee club. Quinn introduced Ros, Honor, and Pen to Finn and to Burt and Carole when they came over with the passes.

"Is that a Coach handbag?" Honor gasped, pointing to Carole's purse.

"Yes, it is," Burt said proudly. "I was on the waiting list four months to get that for her."

The Starlings blinked, obviously not expecting the mechanic in blue jeans and baseball cap to know about the importance of Coach bags, much less to put himself on the waiting list. He chuckled lightly at their amazement.

"You can't talk to Kurt for seventeen years without learning _something_ about fashion."

The girls took an immediately liking to Mr. and Mrs. Hummel from that moment. Kurt had expected to ditch his parents once they were inside the park and meet up with them later for the show, but Pen had too many questions for Carole. She was considering pre-med as a major and wanted a nurse's opinion on the life of a surgeon, so Carole and Burt unwittingly joined their sons' friends in line for one ride after another.

"Pen is very career-minded," Ros explained to Finn, who looked perplexed that anyone would find an adult as interesting as Pen found his mom. "Let's talk football. You're the quarterback, right? I play quarterback in our Powder Puff league."

Finn launched into the conversation immediately, clearly happy to have something else in common with these girls than just singing. All the other teenagers wanted to talk about how much they missed their boyfriends and wished they could go see them at the venue right away. Ros, however, didn't seem fussed if she saw Wes now or in three hours, like they'd all planned. Finn thought her attitude was healthier than the other girls' and Kurt.

After a few more rides and lunch, they made their way to the stage where the Warblers would be performing in half an hour. Kurt and Honor insisted on getting seats right down front like the Warblers were rock stars and prime seats were a necessity. Only after they were seated did Burt and Carole realize they had been included in their sons' group.

"We have the oddest kids," Burt muttered. His wife nodded, looking shocked herself.

Fortunately, the slanted walls behind the stage cast some shade over the first few rows of seats, offering some reprieve from the sticky July heat. Even guzzling expensive bottles of water and fanning themselves with tickets couldn't combat the afternoon sun.

The seats slowly filled up over the next half hour, and at one o'clock the emcee came on stage to welcome the audience and kick off the show. A singing competition winner from a local school started the performance with the national anthem, and a barber shop quartet of retired veterans followed.

The Warblers performed last and came onstage to thunderous applause and whistles from the front row. While taking their places to start the show, the Dalton boys elbowed each other and surreptitiously nodded to their friends. Nick, Blaine, David, and Wes looked happiest of all to see their significant others in the audience.

Thad gave the count, and the Warblers broke into an upbeat backing harmony. Nick stepped forward to take the first solo.

"_Saturday in the park_  
><em>I think it was the Fourth of July<em>"

The crowd gave the glee club rousing support for the well-chosen song. Nick beamed as he danced out front and added an extra skip into his moves. No one could ham it up like Blaine, however, who broke formation to join Nick at the front of the stage as he took over the lead vocals.

"_Another day in the park_  
><em>You'd think it was the Fourth of July<em>"

The two boys alternated lines after the second verse. They danced around each other and goofed off on stage like only best friends could pull off. As the song came to the end, the Warblers closed ranks to reassemble in a traditional choral block. Blaine stayed out front, and Nick traded places with Wes. They sang the entire song together, two voices rising above the simple background arrangement in complete harmony. The symbolism had Carole tearing up and Burt, tight-jawed, nodding his fierce approval.

"_How many roads must a man walk down_  
><em>Before you call him a man?<em>  
><em>How many seas must a white dove sail<em>  
><em>Before she sleeps in the sand?<em>  
><em>Yes, how many times must the cannon balls fly<em>  
><em>Before they're forever banned?<em>

_The answer my friend is blowin' in the wind_  
><em>The answer is blowin' in the wind.<em>"

"I can't believe they did that song," Pen whispered. "The Starling Council would never do a message song outside of our choir room."

"Maybe that will change once I'm Head Starling in the fall," Honor said.

The Warblers gave the audience several moments of silence to absorb the message of peace before beginning a fast-paced harmony. Wes and Blaine blended into the sea of blazers on stage, and Nick burst out front with more energy even than the opening number. He sang the first verse to the whole audience, but belted out the chorus to the front row.

"_American girls are weather and noise_  
><em>Playing the changes for all of the boys<em>  
><em>Holding a candle right up to my hand<em>  
><em>Making me feel so incredible<em>"

As half the Warblers began a harmonious chant of "_American girls, ooooooh_" at the end of the song, the other half started up a new background music of high-pitched, tonal notes. Nick and Blaine made a big show of dancing out front and tossing the microphone back and forth to each other, inviting the audience to guess who had the solo. It was Blaine who took the closing number, and he put everything he had into the song.

"_I used to be a rolling stone__  
><em>_You know if the cause was right__  
><em>_I'd leave to find the answer on the road__  
><em>_I used to be a heart beating for someone__  
><em>_But the times have changed__  
><em>_The less I say the more my work gets done_"

Nick, Wes, Jeff, and Cameron provided a five part harmony to Blaine's solo for the chorus. All five boys danced at the edge of the stage, playing it up for the audience.

"_'Cause I live and breathe this Philadelphia freedom__  
><em>_From the day that I was born I've waved the flag__  
><em>_Philadelphia freedom took me knee-high to a man__  
><em>_Yeah gave me peace of mind my daddy never had_"

The Warblers finished out the song with high energy and danced back into their starting formation. After the last note died out, the teenagers in the front row leapt to their feet, whooping and whistling for their friends. Their over the top antics put smiles on the Warblers' faces and encouraged the rest of the audience to show their favor too.

The Hudson-Hummels said good-bye to the girls as they made for the exit so they could pile into the Starlings' cars and drive back to Westerville. Kurt felt jealous they would all get to see the fireworks together while he had to go back to Lima with his family. It wasn't that he didn't love his family or spending time with them, but he hadn't seen Blaine since they said a quick good-bye after Nick's party Wednesday.

They had spoken on the phone and texted almost constantly, but after what had happened in the guest bedroom, Kurt needed desperately to _see_ his boyfriend. Just the memory of it set his skin on fire. Worst of all, they hadn't been able to talk about it. It was too hard to judge Blaine's real emotions over the phone, he had such control over his voice.

"We're supposed to meet Blaine over by the stage right exit," Kurt said, scanning the concrete walls for the proper sign. Even if they couldn't spend a romantic evening cuddled up on a blanket watching the fireworks, they had a few minutes before the Warblers' bus left to at least say hello (and then, almost as soon, good-bye).

When he found the correct destination, he made a beeline for it. Burt, Carole, and Finn struggled to keep him in their line of sight, but he hardly noticed he was so focused on getting to Blaine, who waited by the exit sign, sweating in his Dalton blazer under the scorching sun. Kurt didn't want to think what a mess sweat and hair gel mixed would make.

"Hey, Kurt," Blaine said stiffly.

Blaine widened his eyes, trying to tell Kurt something wordlessly, but the taller boy was too overjoyed to see him after too many days apart. Kurt closed the last three steps in a bound and threw his arms around Blaine's neck. His lips were pressed against his boyfriend's before he could register Blaine wasn't hugging him back. He pulled away quickly, acutely feeling the sting of rejection, and immediately began to wonder if it was because of what Kurt had asked for at the party. He knew at the time he was pressuring his boyfriend into it a little, but he'd wanted to feel Blaine's hand working him to climax so badly.

A clearing throat reminded Kurt that they were in public in Ohio. He mentally kicked himself and turned to the intruder with his fiercest face firmly in place. It shattered the instant he registered that Blaine's father stood just feet away. Anger put a quiver in Joel Anderson's firmly set mouth, and his eyes – hazel, like his son's – bored into Kurt accusingly.

"Dad, you remember Kurt," Blaine said.

Blaine's voice had taken on a fake rough edge, and it took Kurt a minute to recognize where he'd heard it before: in his own voice, when he'd sung Mellencamp and pretended to be straight. His heart broke for his boyfriend. Kurt would be apologizing for this for years to come. If Blaine wanted him around that long, he added with a pained thought.

"Mr. Anderson," Kurt said, "good to see you again, sir."

The natural highness of his voice offended Blaine's father, who closed his eyes and turned his head away. Kurt stifled the hurt, cast Blaine a remorseful look, and backed away. Blaine nodded, as if to say that only leaving could help now. Kurt turned and pushed through the gaggle of stagehands and park employees before he started sobbing over what harm his stupidity had caused the boy he loved.

He was a wreck by the time Finn found him and called Burt and Carole over. Kurt ducked his face to hide his tears, but he didn't succeed. Carole pulled him into a tight hug, ran her hands over his back (knowing better than to touch his hair), and whispered nonsensical comforting phrases in his ear. He felt a rush of gratitude and love for her.

"Sssh. It's okay, Kurt. It's all right. Tell us what happened."

Kurt looked up to see Finn and Burt standing shoulder-to-shoulder (or shoulder-to-jaw, actually), all but shaking in rage. His brother scanned the stage crew like he surveyed the field before calling a play, sorting out which guy was going to cause him the most trouble.

"I – I'm so stupid. I shouldn't have – I just haven't been Blaine in so long."

"Did somebody give you trouble over showing Blaine affection?" Burt demanded. He and Finn both looked about ready to wade through the crowd punching anyone who so much as looked at Kurt sideways.

"N-Not exactly." Kurt paused to take a shuddering breath and wipe the tears off his cheeks. "I didn't realize Blaine's dad was here."

Carole's arms tightened instinctively around Kurt, as if holding him tighter could solve any problem in the world. He felt safe and loved, but he also couldn't breathe properly. "Mom, please," he whined, shimmying out of her grasp.

"I'm going to see if I can smooth this over," Burt said. "You boys stay here," he ordered Kurt and Finn.

Burt left his family standing in a huddle and went in search of Blaine and Mr. Anderson. They weren't difficult to find. Blaine stood out in his Dalton blazer, and the taller man standing over him surely was his father. As Burt approached, he began to hear the conversation between father and son.

" … that girl you spent the night with?"

"Dad, I'm gay. Nothing sexual will ever happen when I stay overnight at a girl's house."

Blaine sounded so small and beaten down, like he'd had to say that very thing a hundred times in the past. Burt's heart went out to him. Coming out to his parents once must have been hard enough, but having to do it again and again?

Mr. Anderson huffed. "I understand that girls and dating can be scary for someone your age. And now you've met this effete boy, and it's easier to be with him. I've been patient with your little rebellion, but now it's time to forget this phase and get back to being a man."

Blaine's face registered all the shock and disbelief Burt felt. What person in their right mind thought being gay – especially in a place like Ohio – was easy? But Burt also bristled at the insults – veiled and spoken – to Kurt.

"I – I am a man, and so is Kurt," Blaine stuttered, not at all his usual composed self.

"There is a natural order to things, son. Only one of you can be a man."

Blaine blanched and stared open-mouthed at his father. Burt couldn't listen to any more of this ignorant, homophobic conversation. He intruded without the slightest feeling of guilt and held his hand out to Mr. Anderson.

"We haven't met before. I'm Burt Hummel." Mr. Anderson accepted the handshake before Burt dropped a bomb on him. "I thought I should come over here and introduce myself since our sons are dating."

"Ah, I – I see. Joel Anderson."

Burt's eyes never left Joel's face, but he saw Blaine watching from his periphery. His body language show anxiety and reminded Burt to keep the conversation civil for Blaine's sake. Although, Burt thought a solid punch to the face might be good for Joel.

"Kurt told me that he acted without thinking a few minutes ago, and it might have caused a problem."

Burt saw movement in the corner of his eye, and from the shade of purple, knew Kurt had approached. He picked his words carefully, wanting to get through to Joel without hurting his son in the process.

"Sometimes he gets that way when he really cares about something or someone. But he's a teenager, you know? I was that way too when I was his age. One time, I clocked my best friend with my football helmet over I don't even remember what." Joel offered the faintest of smiles, as if to say that he had done something just like that too. "So I'm just glad Kurt chooses more positive emotional outlets than I did."

"I'm not sure I would consider kissing other boys a positive thing," Joel said, frowning over Burt's shoulder. He directed the scowl at Kurt, and that set Burt on edge again.

"It's not positive or negative. It just is. Our sons are gay; it's who they are. What I care about is the kind of people they choose to become."

Joel's attention snapped back to Burt. "They – _Your son_ has made a choice, apparently. Mine is just going through a phase."

"I'm not going to get into that argument with you. Your opinions are yours and yours alone. I'm just here to explain that Kurt didn't mean to cause any trouble by showing Blaine affection. There aren't a lot of places he can do that safely. Our house is one of them, and I guess being around us all day, he let his guard down."

"Well, I don't want to see my son be physical with another boy!" Joel protested.

"I don't think anyone wants that, whether they're gay or straight. They're our kids. We want to protect them. I've seen my son kissing Blaine, and I've seen him kissing a girl. And you know what? It was ten times more awkward seeing him kiss Brittany, because I knew that's not who he truly is."

"We have certain expectations in our family this … aspect of Blaine's life."

"Yeah, I've heard about your 'see no evil' approach. Ignoring the truth doesn't change it. I ignored the healthy lifestyle guidelines my doctor told me about for years, and all that did was land me in the hospital. The truth is that your son is gay, and the sooner you accept that and figure out that he's the same son you've always had, the easier it will be for both of you."

When Joel responded, his cold, accusatory voice spat the words at Kurt. "If Blaine is gay, it's only because your son pressured him into it. He's been saying he's gay for three years, but he never started acting like it until he met your son."

Blaine looked crushed and hid it poorly. Burt felt torn between defending his son and consoling Joel's. In that moment, Burt realized he didn't just approve of Blaine. He _liked_ Blaine; he supported Kurt and Blaine's relationship. He would always choose Kurt over Blaine, as any father would, but while they were together, Blaine had a defender. He felt compelled to say something he thought he'd never admit to Kurt, let alone to the boy in question. But now wasn't the time to play the protective father card. There was a broken teenager standing in front of him who needed to know someone cared.

"I've only known Blaine for a couple months, but let me tell you what I've learned about him. He's helped Kurt through some tough times. He drove from Westerville to Lima to stand up to a bully beside Kurt after they'd known each other for a day. When he and Kurt had a disagreement a couple months back, and Kurt was in the wrong, he stood up to Kurt, and let me tell you, that's not an easy thing to do; my kid has the force of will of a Mack truck. When he got worried about Kurt's safety, he came to me and called me out on not stepping up to the plate. He helped me become a better father to Kurt. When those jerks at McKinley tried to humiliate my son, Blaine was there for him despite his own doubts and fears. He has the courage to say honestly what he thinks and feels because he knows who he is. And if you can't see how all of that makes your son extraordinary whether he's gay, straight, bi, _whatever_, then you've been ignoring more than Blaine's sexual orientation."

No one said a word for full minute as Burt stared down Blaine's father. Joel's eyebrows arched high as he took in this blue collar man standing before him lecturing him on accepting alternate lifestyles. It was as comically convoluted as could be, yet he found nothing to laugh at.

"Clearly, Mr. Hummel, we have _many_ differences of opinion." Joel smoothed down the front of his blue dress shirt and turned to Blaine. "The Warblers will be loading up the bus about now. You'll be leaving with them."

Without another word to his son, not so much as a good-bye, he strode away. He never so much as turned back. Burt knew because he watched for it, for any sign at all that he actually cared about his son. He knew Kurt probably wanted to talk to Blaine, and he should probably leave them to it. But fury pounded through his veins. Fury that he'd once been one of those guys; fury that, but for Elizabeth's compassion, it might have been him who couldn't accept his son.

Burt marched over to Blaine. Without a warning, he pulled his son's boyfriend into a tight, one-armed hug. When he pulled away, tears had collected in Blaine's eyes. The boy looked away and down while Burt squeezed his shoulder.

"I meant what I said. Every word. Don't you ever forget it."

Burt almost didn't hear the response, Blaine was so quiet. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

When he finally released Blaine, Burt found that Carole had a hand over her heart and soppy look in her eye, like she'd fallen in love with him all over again. Finn was nodding slightly, and he put on the barest of grins when their eyes met. But Kurt was a wreck again, tears streaming freely and one hand pressed over his mouth.

"Dad." The emotion in a single word communicated all his appreciation.

"Blaine's dad said he has to ride back with his glee club, and I'm not gonna contradict another father's orders. But these Warblers, you think they'd mind if you rode back with them?" Kurt and Blaine both shook their heads, looking surprised but hopeful. "Then we'll pick you up in Westerville in two hours."

Westerville was ridiculously far out of the way, and they'd be missing half a day at the amusement park and the fireworks show. But Burt really didn't care just then.

Blaine and Kurt left the backstage area with their arms linked and heads lulling together.

"We'll come back for the Vortex some other time, Finn," Burt promised. Finn had been going on nonstop about the rollercoaster ever since they decided on coming to King's Island.

His stepson didn't respond for a beat, and Burt looked up sharply, wondering if he'd have to have another talk with Finn about how difficult life was for Kurt and Blaine. He was beaten to the punch, however.

"Blaine's dad is a fucking dick," Finn spat.

"Finn!" Carole scolded automatically, but Burt chuckled, and she was forced to reprimand him too.

"Seriously, Mom," Finn protested. "I know that I've said some stupid things to Kurt that I shouldn't have, and I still feel really bad about that. But that guy …" He punched the air with both fists, out of words to describe his feelings.

"Come on, Finn," Burt said, slapping him on the back. "There's a great Mom-and-Pop burger place not far from here. We'll get some big greasy burgers and milkshakes." He reached up to tousle Finn's hair, something he was never allowed to do with Kurt. "You're a good kid too, Finn, and a good brother."

Just before they left the front gates of the theme park, Finn received a text message from Kurt.

_Staying with Nick tonight and riding to Lima with Blaine tomorrow, so enjoy the Vortex. See you at rehearsal. –Kurt_

On Burt's instructions, Finn replied back.

_K. Burt says be safe and call if you need anything. –Finn _

**o o o**

The ride back to Westerville on the Dalton bus was subdued. They had all seen the altercation between Mr. Anderson and Mr. Hummel through the tinted windows as the bus idled in the lot. When Kurt and Blaine mounted the steps and picked a pair of empty seats right up front, separate from the other Warblers, they all guessed it hadn't gone well. Nick practically punched Ethan when he started to ask, and the dark-haired boy continued to throw periodic glares at anyone who so much as glanced at the two figures huddled down into their seats.

Kurt and Blaine spent the bus ride holding each other and whispering endearments. Kurt wanted to wallow in misery, but Blaine needed him to be strong. He stroked his boyfriend's hair and cheeks and pressed kisses into his temple while Blaine cried softly into Kurt's newest Alexander McQueen shirt. He couldn't find it in him to care about the clothes just then.

Halfway back to Dalton, Blaine's tears dried up, and he wiped his cheeks on his blazer sleeve. Kurt shifted around to allow himself a better position to hold his boyfriend now that Blaine's face wasn't buried in his shoulder.

"How bad is it going to be?"

The raven-haired boy shook his head. "It won't be. We'll never mention this ever again." Kurt's brow furrowed, and he started to speak, but Blaine overrode him. "I can't change my father, Kurt. You know I don't avoid problems. I would talk it out with him if he would actually discuss the issue and not try to convince me I'm straight."

They fell silent for a few moments, both upset and unable to say anything to make themselves feel better about their situation.

"Can we go see the fireworks tonight with everyone?" Blaine asked, nuzzling into Kurt's neck.

"If you promise to bring a fluffy blanket. There is not a chance I'm sitting on the ground in these pants." He gestured to his white skinny jeans. "Also, we need a spot on a hill without trees so we can lie down and see the whole sky."

"I do promise, and I know just the spot. We'll have to get there early to get it, though. I'll pick you up from Nick's as soon as I can, but I should stop by the house so he knows I came back with the Warblers."

Kurt nodded. "I never got to tell you how amazing the performance was."

Blaine chuckled into Kurt's shoulder. "You should have seen the early show on Friday. I forgot the lyrics to "Saturday in the Park" and ended up singing the first verse again. _And_I dropped the microphone while Nick and I were tossing it back and forth."

"You are such an adorable dork," Kurt laughed.

"But you love me."

"Oh, I do. So much." Kurt pressed a soft kiss to his boyfriend's lips.

Someone in the back of the bus made exaggerated kissing noises and then yelped when Nick thwacked him with a packet of Twizzlers. Laughter broke out among the Warblers, and Kurt and Blaine became part of the group again for the last fifteen minutes of the ride.

**o o o**

Honor dropped Quinn off at Nick's house after Richard called to say that the Warblers had arrived back in Westerville. He also added in a hushed voice what had happened between Mr. Anderson and Mr. Hummel, so when Quinn walked into the Duval's living room and found Kurt sitting on the couch, she wasn't surprised. She didn't ask for a recap or if she could do anything to help because she knew Kurt would ask for it if he needed it.

They loitered around the Duval's manor, talking about the Warblers' weekend at King's Island (including a truly epic scavenger hunt, the winner of which remained undecided, and hotel hide-and-seek) for about an hour until Blaine came by to pick up Kurt.

"You know, my parents are gone all night," Nick whispered to Blaine and Kurt when he thought Quinn wasn't listening. "If you two wanted to skip the fireworks in the park …."

He didn't exactly say "we have plenty of guest rooms," but it was implied. Quinn pretended she hadn't heard, although she didn't know how she felt about her boyfriend facilitating teen sex. It made her wonder if she would have problems with him later as their relationship progressed.

After she and Nick left for the Westerville park, she didn't expect to see Kurt or Blaine for the rest of the night. At the park, he spread out a plaid blanket on a gently sloping hillside with a clear view of the sky. David and Pen already lounged on a blanket several feet to their left and had put down another to save a place for Wes and Ros, who were apparently running late. Richard and Honor hadn't brought a blanket at all because they preferred to climb a tree and watch from the higher branches. Several other Warblers with their non-Starling girlfriends were scattered around the area. Jeff and Simon showed up just minutes before sunset and shamelessly encroached on Wes and Ros's blanket.

"Did Wes just say something about a gavel?" Quinn asked, rolling her neck to look at Nick.

They had lain down on their backs as soon as they arrived at the park and now quite comfortably alternated between looking at each other and the wispy clouds floating through the darkening sky.

"Head Warbler gets a gavel to call to order and adjourn meetings. It's supposed to stay in the meeting room, but Wes became unnaturally attached to it within his first week as Head Warbler. It's now regularly used as a weapon."

"Your glee club is so formal. It sounds kind of nice," she said wistfully. "I could do without the storm outs and speaking out of turn and outbursts. It'd be relaxing to only speak after we're called on."

She had told Nick previously about her personal vendetta against Rachel, but not the specifics. Even without that piece of information, Nick could have guessed exactly what she meant from a month of musical rehearsals.

"Can I ask you something, Nick? Why aren't you on the Council? You're going to be a senior, and you're clearly very popular with the Warblers. I don't understand why they didn't elect you."

He shrugged. "I was in glee club to sing and nothing else. My life after high school isn't going to be about music. If my college has an acapella group, I'll probably audition, but I won't be gutted if they don't. I'm more concerned with my leadership and mentorship roles in academics."

Quinn processed that for a moment. "You said "was." Are you in glee club for something different now?"

"Oh, no, not really. I just meant that I've been doing a lot more lately. At the end of last year, Blaine started insisting more of us got solos, so I've been featured a lot more. And he's missed some meetings this summer, so someone had to be the voice of reason."

"I can't imagine Rachel ever missing a glee club meeting unless she was throwing a temper tantrum," Quinn chuckled darkly.

"Write it down, David!" Wes snapped, drawing the attention of every Warbler within hearing distance.

"Are you joking, Wes? I'm laying on a blanket with my girlfriend about two minutes before the start of the best Fourth of July fireworks show in Westerville, and you want me to take minutes? You're out of your mind, my friend." David laughed and pointedly ignored Wes's sputtering.

"Cameron!" Wes shouted. The boy's dark head popped up from where he had stretched out on a hot pink blanket further down the hill. "Write this down …."

David scowled at his best friend as Wes rattled off a list of suggestions for the Warblers' next performance at the Shady Oaks nursing home. The incoming Council member whipped out his Blackberry and started typing. Two minutes later, just as the first fireworks began erupting low in the sky, the Warblers received a mass e-mail.

_Wesley Montgomery, Head Warbler 2010-2011, has received one demerit from Cameron James, Council Member 2011-2012, for violating Robert's Rules of Order. Let the record show the Head Warbler did not call to order the meeting before submitting a proposal._

_Sent from my Blackberry_

"I'm so writing that down," David shouted over the exploding fireworks.

Wes looked apoplectic with rage and craned his neck looking for support, but found that Blaine had not come to the fireworks show and couldn't support the Head Warbler. With a huff, he let Ros pull him back down onto the blanket.

"This is nice, isn't it?" Nick asked.

He scooted over so the lengths of their bodies touched as they watched the multicolored sparks light up the sky over the baseball diamond and golf course. Quinn rolled slightly to push closer against him, but resolutely ignored eye contact. She pretended the exploding colors interested her more than the boy beside her.

Between the explosions overhead, Quinn caught a snatch of her ringtone and fumbled through her handbag to find her phone. She stared at the caller ID for a minute, trying to figure out why Lauren would be calling her in the middle of a fireworks show. She sat up and pressed a finger into her left ear with the phone clutched at her right.

"Hello? Lauren?"

"_Hey, Quinn. So listen, something's happened with Puckerman …._"

Quinn listened in confusion, and then anger followed by worry, as Lauren related a tale of true stupidity. She and Puck had come to Columbus to buy some "underground" fireworks, which Quinn assumed meant illegal. On their way back to Lima (and an empty field where they were going to set off the fireworks), Puck had gotten pulled over for speeding.

"_And that's where I had my very own idiot moment_," Lauren admitted. "_I told the cop my dad was a cop too so he'd let us go, but I might not have been very subtle about it. And that just pisses them off more._"

"Why are you calling me, Lauren?"

"_Because_ _I hear you're in Westerville, and so are we … at the police station._"

Quinn's eyes slipped closed, and she pinched the bridge of her nose. After getting a few more details, she told Lauren she would be there as soon as she could. Nick had been listening for the last few minutes.

"I'm so sorry, Nick, but I have to go. Do you think you could take me back to my car? It's at Honor's house."

"I'll drive you," he said.

Once they were back in the car, Quinn checked her bank balance on her phone and cringed. She didn't want to have to explain to her dad there was a charge for bail on her emergency credit card because the boy who had gotten her pregnant had been arrested.

"I didn't know you and Puck were that close," Nick said tentatively.

"It's complicated. We – We've been through something no one else can understand. He's an idiot, but he'll always be a part of my life I can't forget about, no matter how hard I try sometimes."

He nodded. "He called his parents, right? You won't be able to do anything at the precinct without them."

Quinn's brow furrowed. "I don't know if there's anything I can do anyway. Puck has a juvenile record. He's been doing so well since he got out of juvie, but a couple months good behavior isn't going to negate the fact that he tried to steal an ATM."

Nick looked like he wanted to laugh, except Quinn's face was dead serious. He wisely said nothing else until he parked at the precinct. They jogged up the front steps and inside the building. Lauren sat in a chair facing a desk sergeant with slumped shoulders and none of her usual swagger.

"They've got Puck in holding."

"What do I need to do to pay bail for Noah Puckerman?" Quinn asked the female sergeant.

The officer shook her head. "Sorry, hon. He hasn't even been arraigned yet, so it's gonna be awhile. You can have a seat to wait or there's a vending machine around the corner."

Quinn turned to Nick, to tell him they should go get her car so he didn't have to wait, but he had disappeared. She glanced over the many desks, but saw no familiar head of black hair. She pulled out her phone and texted him.

_Where did you go? It's going to take awhile. –Quinn_

_Sorry. I saw a family friend. I'll be back in a minute. –Nick_

She felt slightly annoyed that he disappeared without telling her, but shrugged it off. There were other matters to worry about. She took a seat next to Lauren, and the two girls sat silently for the next fifteen minutes.

At last, Nick exited an office to the far left of the precinct. A short balding man with a hangdog expression followed, but disappeared down an anterior hallway instead of coming over to the desk where Lauren and Quinn sat under the watchful eye of the sergeant.

"I'm sorry that took so long," Nick apologized. "But it was worth the wait."

Not a minute later, the balding man returned. Puck trailed behind him looking confused but hopeful. Quinn and Lauren both got to their feet and stared at the back of Nick's head while he shook the man's hand.

"Thank you, sir."

The man nodded and directed his next words to Puck. "This is your only warning, son. Recidivism isn't something I usually let slide, and you're just a couple weeks away from turning eighteen. If you have the urge to have a little fun again, think what juvie was like and remember prison is ten times worse."

Puck gulped. "Yes, sir. I'll do that."

"Good. You kids have a good, safe night. Nick, tell your old man Bernie said hello and that I'd sure like it if he had Callie give me a call."

The Warbler flashed the best smile he could manage and led the way out of the precinct. The other teenagers waited until they were safely away from the front doors before rounding on Nick.

"What just happened?" Puck asked. "One minute the cops are telling me I'm on my way back to juvie, and the next the sheriff himself is opening the cell door for me."

"I'd like to know that too," Quinn said. "The sheriff is a family friend, okay. But you talk to him and he lets Puck go without even putting him through booking? How does that work?"

"Good 'Ol Boys," Lauren stated. "Told you it works, if you know how to do it right."

"Dude, I owe you … a million," Puck said. He held out his hand, and Nick reciprocated the arm clasp. "I'd love to stay and chat, but I kind of want to get away from this place, you know?"

While Puck and Lauren were content to leave with no more explanation, Quinn didn't budge from her spot in front of the police station steps.

"There's more to it than that. Puck has illegal fireworks and a juvenile record. Lauren tried to coerce a police officer. There is no way being a family friend makes that go away. Tell me, Nick."

He sighed. "My dad is the US Congressman for this district. Sheriff Reynolds supports my dad and makes him look tough on crime. In return, my dad makes sure Reynolds gets campaign money. Callie is my dad's financial manager."

Quinn gaped. "Oh my god. You just bribed the sheriff to release Puck!"

"The polite term is _quid pro quo_. I don't usually do stuff like this. Mainly because I don't have friends who get arrested, but all the same, I don't like that side of politics."

"But why? You hardly know Puck. I don't think you've even spoken to him before just now."

Nick cocked his head to the side, as if silently asking Quinn why it wasn't obvious to her already. "Because he's important to you."

Incredulity morphed into concern on Quinn's face. She followed him back to his Audi, and they rode in silence most of the way back to Honor's house. Finally, as he pulled onto Honor's street, she spoke up.

"You don't know me that well either, Nick. You took a really big gamble tonight."

"I have a feeling you're worth it."

She shook her head. "Don't do that. Don't put me on a pedestal before you know me better."

Panic had begun to settle into Quinn's chest like a dead weight. Political children always had the dirt dished on them – every failure reported and every success exploited. A girlfriend who had a baby at sixteen and gave her up for adoption, who had several cosmetic surgeries, who had a history of cheating on her boyfriends would be a huge failure for Nick. Quinn feared her past being brought to light publicly and used as political cannon fodder.

"Fair enough. But Quinn, please don't judge me based on my father. I can see it in your eyes. You're questioning if this is a good idea. I swear, Quinn, I'll protect you as best I can. We could be great together."

She swallowed thickly. She had finally found a place where she felt popular and where she fit in with other girls again. She had a boyfriend who might love her one day, and she thought she could love him back. It was enough – just barely, but enough – to make her nod her head.

"I know we will be."


	8. Not Quite Past the Point of No Return

**Author's Note:** The full cast list can be found here (remove the spaces): h t t p : / / arainymonday . wordpress . com / 2011 / 07 / 05 / a-fine-frenzy-cast-list

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eight<strong>  
><strong>Not Quite Past the Point of No Return<strong>

_Second week of July_

The first rehearsal of the week got off to a rocky start when Mike and Wes got into an argument over the amount of affection Tina showered on Wes during their scenes together. The teenagers had all been waiting for the jealousy card to be played at some point, but most bets had been placed elsewhere.

"Okay, okay," Mr. Schuester said, stepping between the scowling boys. "Mike, they're playing characters under the influence of a love potion. Our leads all have significant others, and they're acting the same way. So just take a breath, okay?"

Tina stood a little apart from them shaking her head. When Mike followed her to their seats, she refused to speak to him. Rachel claimed the seat behind Mike and began nattering in his ear about how he had to learn the difference between professional and personal relationships.

"In this business, it's very important to separate the show from real life. For instance, I might be so insanely jealous when Finn and Quinn share love scenes together that I want to scream and throw stage props at her – I mean, hypothetically, of course. But I don't, because I choose to think of them as Demetrius and Helena. I'm sure Nick doesn't like watching those scenes either, and I think Kurt would prefer if Blaine doesn't kiss girls anymore, except he's kissing both me and Quinn in this musical …."

Mike tuned her out until Mr. Schue called for silence as they began rehearsal with Finn, Blaine, and Quinn on stage.

"Please tell me that was punishment enough," he muttered to Tina. She tried to fight off the smile, but lost the battle. "Asian kiss?"

"I think that's confusing in this situation, considering you, me, and Wes are all Asian."

"Okay, Tike kiss?"

Tina shook her head, but laughed. "You and your adjectives." She kissed him lightly before turning her attention back to the stage.

"O spite! O hell! I see you all are bent / To set against me for your merriment: / If you were civil and knew courtesy, / You would not do me thus much injury. / Can you not hate me, as I know you do, / But you must join in souls to mock me too?"

Quinn spoke her lines with such heartbreak that more than one person in the audience held their breath and blinked rapidly to clear away their tears. She finished her speech with perfection earned only by hours of practice.

"You are unkind, Demetrius; be not so; / For you love Hermia; this you know I know: / And here, with all good will, with all my heart, / In Hermia's love I yield you up my part; / And yours of Helena to me bequeath, / Whom I do love and will do till my death," Blaine spoke with conviction. He turned loving eyes on Quinn who turned away with a pained expression.

"Never did mockers waste more idle breath."

Finn stepped forward to deliver his lines. "Lysander, keep thy Hermione; I will not: /  
>If ever I loved her, all that is gone.  My heart is but a guest sojourn, / And now to Helena is it home returned, / There to remain."

"Hold up," Artie muttered, his finger tracing the script open on his lap. "Did he say any of those lines right?"

"Did he say _Hermione_?" Sam asked.

"Okay, umm," Mr. Schuester said, standing up from his seat. He jogged down the center aisle and climbed onto the stage to stand with the students. "Finn, first of all, uhh, you didn't quite get the words right."

The tall boy sighed. "I know, Mr. Schue. I'm sorry. It's just so … confusing. I'm working on it, I promise. Rachel has been running lines with me a lot." In the audience, his girlfriend beamed, but a hint of uncertainty underscored it. "And I think Blaine, Kurt, and I were going to rehearse again."

"Absolutely," Blaine said, clapping a hand on Finn's shoulder. Kurt nodded from his place in the audience.

Mr. Schuester decided to let that matter go since Finn had help. "All right. Good. Now, in this scene, Finn, you're telling Lysander that you don't love Hermia, that you love Helena, who Lysander is in love with." He paused while Finn tried to work out the complicated romantic entanglements. "Okay. You're telling Blaine that you don't love Rachel, that you love Quinn, who Blaine is in love with. You're saying you're going to love Quinn forever." That seemed to make sense to Finn, so he went on. "Really feel that conflict in your soul and put it into your performance. Let's try it again from Quinn's speech."

This time, Finn managed to capture the passion in his performance, but he still referred to Hermia as Hermione and botched the inverted English. Mr. Schuester let the scene continue, so Rachel made her way to the stage to enter the scene at her cue. Like Quinn, she had clearly spent many free hours rehearsing.

The two girls acted as if the scene had become a competition with no other purpose than to one-up each other. It worked well for the scene, except that the intensity caught Finn and Blaine off guard. They hadn't prepared for such a vigorous challenge and it showed.

At the end of the scene, Mr. Schuester summed up the obvious. "That was good. Finn, Blaine, kick it up a notch next time and try to match Rachel and Quinn's energy level. Let's take five and we'll pick up here again when we come back."

The cast members who had been sitting all morning stood up to stretch and then made their way down the hall to the vending machines. Finn and Blaine stayed on stage quietly going over their lines and what, exactly, had gotten into the girls.

"I'll tell you the whole story sometime," Finn promised Blaine. "Basically, Mr. Schue should stick to referring to us as our characters' names." With just a few minutes left for the break, Blaine and Finn went in search of a restroom and caffeine, respectively. Finn had just fed his dollar in to the soda machine when Nick, Jeff, and Thad exited the restroom Blaine had just entered.

"… go a lot smoother if Mr. Schuester would replace a certain lead male," Nick commented knowingly.

They disappeared back inside the auditorium, unaware their conversation had been overheard by both Finn and Blaine. The male leads walked back onto the stage five minutes later, both looking grim, and channeled their anger into their performances, which easily matched the girls'. Oblivious to the drama brewing among the cast, Mr. Schuester praised the leads enthusiastically before calling Artie and Kurt to the stage to continue the scene.

**o o o**

Mr. Schue released the group at four o'clock as usual, but asked for volunteers to help with the set painting. Jesse and Trent had done a great job designing a framework set piece that would provide a good backdrop to any scene in the play and could be easily ported to the Renaissance Faire. It only seemed fair that the two Warblers had some additional help after all the extra hours and splinters.

"I can stay later tonight, Mr. Schue," Mercedes said. "I don't have to be home until six for dinner."

"I can stay too," Sam added. At his teacher's concerned looked, he added, "My brother and sister are at a friend's house today, and I don't have to work, so I might as well do something productive, right?"

"Great," Mr. Schue said. "Thank you both for volunteering. I'll let the custodians know you'll be here for a little while longer."

As the teacher and rest of the cast filed out of the auditorium to spend their evening on dates or whatever plans they had, Sam and Mercedes popped the tops off paint cans and pulled on painting smocks.

"I look ridiculous," the girl said, gesturing down at the rainbow paint splatters on the white smock.

"No, you don't."

Sam dipped the paintbrush into the green paint and began slathering it on the cloud-shaped wood cuts that he assumed were treetops. Mercedes sat down at his feet with brown paint dripping off her brush onto the dust sheet and started on the tree trunks. They worked in companionable silence until all the trees had been colored in correctly. Someone else with more artistic talent would have to put in the details.

"Okay. Enough," Mercedes declared. "If I breath in anymore paint fumes right now, I'm gonna start hallucinating those trashcans attacking us."

"Exterminate!" Sam said in a robotic voice. Mercedes cocked an eyebrow. "Daleks … _Doctor Who_." She shook her head, and Sam's eyes bugged out. "Oh my God, Mercedes! How can you …. Okay, we're streaming _Doctor Who _from Netflix tonight."

The girl laughed and shook her head while hammering the lid back onto her paint can. "Fine. But you know I don't like that fantasy stuff."

"Science fiction. The Doctor is an alien time traveler who visits other planets."

"Wait. Didn't we already see that one?"

"No, that was _Stargate Continuum_. They're humans who visit other worlds and just happened to time travel in that movie."

Mercedes shook her head, trying to get all the science fiction straight. "Fine. Then we're watching _Dreamgirls_again."

She stood up, ready to take off her smock, but Sam had other ideas. When she turned around, a speck of green paint landed on her cheek. Sam danced backwards, grinning and holding his paint brush like a rapier. Mercedes seized her discarded brush off the stage and charged him. They lunged and ducked, laughing raucously, while attempting to paint each other's faces without getting any on themselves. With his longer arms, Sam fared much better, but Mercedes got close enough that he had a broad brown streak up his left cheek. In retaliation, Sam seized Mercedes and pinned her back to chest while running his paintbrush over her cheeks.

"Ah! Stop it, Sam!" she half-cried, half-laughed.

"What's the magic word?"

"_Expecting Patronum?_"

Sam doubled over in laughter, releasing Mercedes from his hold. Between belly laughs, he gasped, "Expecting _Patronum_?"

Nonplussed, Mercedes flicked her paintbrush and a glob of paint smacked him in the chin. In turn, Sam did a swish-and-flick motion that Mercedes failed to recognize. Instead of chuckling at him, she started shrieking.

"Oh, hell no, boy! You got paint in my weave!"

Hands flying to her paint-speckled hair, she confirmed her worst fear, turned, and bolted off the stage. Sam followed at a more sedate pace, torn between amusement and concern. He knew it would wash out, but he didn't want Mercedes to be mad at him. He saw her disappear into a girl's bathroom and hovered around the door.

"Uh, Mercedes? Are you okay?"

"Get in here and help me get this out!" she snapped.

Sam hesitated and glanced around the hallway. Of course no one had stayed after summer school released for the day. Probably only the custodians and maybe one or two teachers loitered around the building. Cautiously, Sam sidled into the girl's bathroom with his eyes squeezed shut. Mercedes observed her boyfriend shuffling crab-like in the mirror.

"Sam, what are you doing? I wouldn't have told you to come in here if I wasn't decent or if someone was doing their business."

His eyes snapped open. "Oh. Right. I've just never been a girls' restroom before."

He looked around, as if expecting to see something groundbreaking. Once he had satisfied his curiosity, he went over to the sink and began helping Mercedes wash the paint out of her hair. A bottle of shampoo and a towel had appeared seemingly from nowhere, but Sam knew the glee girls kept the items stashed in the restrooms for the inevitable post-Slushie clean up.

They didn't speak as Mercedes leaned over the sink and let Sam work his soapy fingers through her hair. The guitar calluses worked pleasantly against her scalp and made her hyperaware of Sam's presence behind her. The increasing tension in the air made it hard to breath, and she wondered if Sam felt it too. She wished he would do something – kiss the back of her neck or run his fingers down her sides the way she liked. She just wanted to feel him pressed up against her.

The uncharacteristic thought startled Mercedes so badly she jumped up suddenly, sending a cascade of water flying in every direction. Sam gave a wordless cry and clutched at his now soaked t-shirt. Her jaw fell open at the sight of the wet t-shirt clinging to Sam's muscles. It wasn't doing anything to help her compose herself again.

"Mercedes, what …." Sam caught his girlfriend staring hungrily at his chest and trailed off. She had been opposed to doing anything physical besides kissing fully clothed before. She'd seemed afraid of her more passionate emotions until now, and Sam hadn't wanted to push her. "Mercedes, if you keep staring at me like that, I can't be held responsible for what happens."

She didn't stop staring. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and Sam moaned lustily. He crossed the distance between them in two strides and claimed Mercedes's lips in a rough kiss. She responded eagerly, licking at his bottom lip, and their tongues battled furiously. Her hands balled in the hem of his shirt, and Sam knew she was still too timid to do what she wanted, so he pulled away and removed the wet shirt himself. It fell with a squelch onto the tile, and then Sam returned his attention to her lips. As her hands explored his abdominal muscles, he took the opportunity to touch where he'd been denied since they'd started dating.

Mercedes's breath caught when Sam's palm grazed her breasts. Instinct told her to push him away, to stop this before it went too far. But when she stepped backwards and bumped against the wall, Sam followed her, pinning her in place. Any thought of resisting fled her mind, and one hand tangled in Sam's hair, pulling him closer to her as she deepened the kiss. Sam shifted to accommodate her demands, and she felt _him_pressed into her stomach. Mercedes didn't have a lot of experience with boyfriends and sex, but she recognized a hard on and that she had caused it.

"What. The. Hell is this?" a too familiar voice demanded.

Sam and Mercedes broke apart and their necks snapped to the left to take in the sight of Couch Sylvester framed in the open restroom door. She wore a black tracksuit and an expression of deepest loathing.

Mercedes knew what they must look like, she with dripping hair and Sam shirtless, pressed up against a wall in a girls' bathroom after hours. She felt her cheeks grow hot at the same time a cold pit formed in her stomach. Sam finally removed his hands from her breasts and shifted away, slightly behind Mercedes to hide his problem.

"Couch Sylvester –," she began, but the cheerleading coach raised a hand.

"My office. Five minutes."

Sam and Mercedes worked hurriedly to compose themselves before going to their doom in the terrifying teacher's office. Mercedes hastily dried her hair and tried to arrange it in a way that didn't look like she had just been making out in a girls' bathroom. Sam quickly rubbed the dried paint off his face. On their way to Coach Sylvester's office, he stopped by the locker rooms to grab a dry t-shirt from the football supplies.

"Sit down," Coach Sylvester demanded when they appeared at her door. She waited until the guilty students eased into the chairs before her desk to continue. "I have witnessed a disturbing level of debauchery since the inception of Schuester's glee club, but that spectacle was by and far the worst yet. It was like watching Fozzy Bear and Tootie get it on."

The couple dared to glance sidelong at each other. The cheerleading coach ripped off her glasses and tossed them on the desk in disgust.

"Fozzy Bear because you're mouth is as huge as a Muppet's and Tootie because until five minutes ago you were just as awkwardly virginal. If I had to pick any two members of the glee club least likely to engage in horrendous show tunes-induced depravity, I would have picked you two. That just goes to show you what happens when you give students the benefit of the doubt. They take that sliver of trust and _gut you with it_."

"Coach Sylvester," Mercedes cut in. "I know we shouldn't have … in the bathroom."

"No, you shouldn't have in the bathroom," the couch interjected, "or anywhere. I don't pretend to know what goes on it those hormone-soaked brains of yours. I, myself, never went through puberty. I went from gawky preteen to the assertive, commanding woman I am today in a matter of months. But I do know that you're seventeen, and contrary to popular belief among seventeen-year-olds, you are not invincible or all-knowing and your choices do have consequences. Consequences that you haven't thought about if you're getting it on in a bathroom at your school." The coach picked up her glasses again and slid them on. "You have your whole lives ahead of you to explore your exhibitionist tendencies and spend countless nights in jail because of it. Now get out of my office."

"Uh, Coach, are you going to tell anyone about this?"

The teacher arched her eyebrow at Sam, and he shifted in his chair. "Mr. Schuester has to know you two can't be left alone together without dry humping." Mercedes and Sam's cheeks both flamed. "Now seriously get out of my office or I'll place an ad on the billboard above the Lima YMCA with your phone numbers and salacious messages."

The couple fled from Coach Sylvester's office and didn't look back until they were sitting inside Mercedes's Honda Civic. Mercedes's hands shook slightly on the steering wheel, and Sam looked like he was about to be sick.

"Oh my God."

"Mercedes, I'm really – "

"Boy, you do _not_want to tell me you're sorry right now."

Sam sat uncomfortably in the passenger seat, not sure what she wanted him to say or do. Mercedes itched to pick up her phone and call Kurt. She needed to talk to her best friend about what had happened and what she was feeling. Not in detail, because there were some lines she wouldn't cross even with Kurt. But he'd had a boyfriend for a couple months now, and in a relationship with _two_teenage boys, something must have happened. Kurt could help her, except he couldn't because Mercedes had been lying to him for over a month now.

"We're gonna be late for dinner," she said finally, and started the car.

"Shouldn't we …"

"What?"

"I don't know. Talk?"

Mercedes considered, but shook her head. "Not right now, Sam. I – I have to figure out what I'm feeling before we can talk."

**o o o**

"I've missed you," Brittany said airily, linking their arms together as they walked through the mall. "We never get to hang out anymore, and Lord Tubbington really wants those dance lessons."

"Aw, I've missed you too, Britt," Blaine said. "I've been really busy outside of rehearsal with Warblers practices and with Kurt. But you know what, you're right. You have to make time for your friends. Thursday, it's just you, me, and Lord Tubbington. Is that like a nickname, by the way?"

Brittany leaned down to rest her head on Blaine's shoulder, which made walking slightly awkward, but she had a dancer's grace and managed it. "You should transfer to McKinley and join New Directions. Then you wouldn't be as busy, and even if you were, we could sit next to each other in glee all the time."

She sounded so innocent, it made Blaine sigh in adoration. "You're so sweet, Brittany. I'm glad you asked me to help you shop today. I don't know why you didn't ask Kurt, though. He's so much better at picking out gifts."

"Well, I know you've been spending a lot of time with Santana, and I want to get her something perfect for her birthday. The last thing I gave her, she didn't really like that much. I don't think she ever even wore it, and I made it myself."

Blaine cooed at her again. "That's precious, Britt. What did you make her?"

"A t-shirt that said Lebanese."

His brow furrowed. "I wondered what that was all about. She has worn it, though. She had it on Monday when I watched _Rent_with her at her house."

"Oh." The blonde lifted her head and smiled now. "So you watch movies with Santana and you sleep with her too?"

He cringed. "Yeah, about that …. Santana and I, we aren't sleeping together. I'm completely in love with Kurt, and not at all attracted to women. Not that I don't realize Santana is beautiful, but I'm just not into that anatomy."

They stopped at the new age store to look for something alternative that might catch their eye, but Blaine judged the items to be mostly kitschy junk that would fall apart in a matter of months. Brittany spent a long time deliberating over a hemp bracelet with interwoven beads that looked suspiciously like a lipstick lesbian pride flag. He steered her away from it for now.

Empty-handed, they left the new age store and went in search any others that might appeal to Santana. They were leaving Karma, again without purchases, when they spotted Karofsky and his father exiting Dick's Sporting Goods.

"It's okay," Brittany said, trailing her fingers through the curls at the nape of Blaine's neck. "He can't do anything here. He doesn't even have a Slushie."

He realized that he had instinctively tightened his grip on Brittany's arm and forced his muscles to relax. She kept petting the curling strands of his hair gently. Within a half moment, Mr. Karofsky noticed them staring and flashed a genial smile.

"Friends of yours, David?"

The teenager looked caught, unable to say yes or no. He hesitated for a few beats before answering his father. "This is Brittany. She's in the glee club and used to be a Cheerio. And this is Blaine, Kurt's … boyfriend."

Realization dawned on Mr. Karofsky's face. He threw a sideways glance at his son. From what Kurt had told Blaine, Mr. Karofsky had no strong feelings either way about Kurt being gay. His concern rather had been his son's behavior, and Kurt had walked away with the sense that Mr. Karofsky genuinely cared about his son. The man couldn't know he had just walked into a test. His attitude toward two boys dating would mean far, far more to Karofsky than his father could know.

"I think I've seen you at games before, Brittany." He smiled at the former Cheerio, and she grinned back. "It was nice to meet you, Blaine."

Blaine started at the friendly pat Mr. Karofsky placed to his shoulder as he walked away. Karofsky exhaled deeply. Relief left him shaky and unsettled. He nodded once at Blaine and hurried after his father.

"We're not friends with him even though he dated Santana, are we?"

"I can't tell you who to be friends with, Britt. But, no, I'm not his friend, and I don't think I ever can be. I love Kurt so much, and I just can't move past this. I know I should be able to because he has, but there's this protective side of me that just can't let it go."

"I understand," she said softly, still playing with his hair. "If someone hurt Santana like that, I wouldn't be able to forgive them very easily. I'd probably do something really mean like give them blue Jell-O." At his perplexed expression, she explained, "Blue Jell-O makes your hair fall out, Blaine. Everyone knows that."

Blaine credited his time around New Directions with the fact that he didn't bat an eyelash at Brittany's crazy theory. He skipped right past it and got to the heart of the matter. "You love her a lot, don't you?"

She nodded, with a sad little smile that made Blaine want to wrap her in a tight hug and never let her go. "So much more than I've ever loved anyone else. But I'm so confused because she says she loves me too, but she won't actually be with me."

"I've been through that once. With Kurt." Brittany perked up, which put a smile on his lips. He hated seeing her morose. "Around Valentine's day, Kurt told me that he had feelings for me. It caught me completely off guard because Kurt's my best friend, and I was afraid of screwing up and losing everything that mattered to me."

"How did he convince you to try being his boyfriend?"

"He stopped trying," Blaine said, and there was a catch in his voice. "He was just … Kurt. And once I really saw this incredible boy who had feelings for me, I couldn't stay away. If you're asking for my advice, I would say show her you love her by accepting that she's afraid."

Brittany nodded slowly. "I guess I have pushed her a lot. But only because I think she's the most awesome girl I've ever known, and I want everyone to see how much I love her."

"They will, one day. It's harder for some people than others to be honest about who they really are. You're such a pure soul, Britt, and so accepting of others. I think the more judgmental you are, the harder it is to really be yourself."

"Is that why gay marriage isn't legal? Because there are no gay judges?"

Blaine cast an affectionate look at Brittany. "No, and there _are_gay judges."

"You look like a puppy when you make that face. It's so cute. Will you do it again?"

They finished their shopping, walking arm-in-arm and laughing while Brittany tried to mimic Blaine's "adorable" face.

**o o o**

When Wes walked into the senior commons, he expected to see various Warblers on couches around the room discussing the impending auditions for the final Warbler performance of the summer: new student orientation. Instead, he found a pile of teenage boys ringed by many others waving around Sharpies that might as well have been a pig's head on a spear.

"Thad?" he asked accusingly. His fellow Council member had joined the madness and currently half-stood, half-lay on the pile of boys.

"David?" Wes called, expecting some backup from his best friend.

"Wes! Help!" David's voice called from under the mountain of Warblers.

Wes did the only sensible thing. He strode to the Council table, grabbed his gavel, and banged it on the desk. Slowly, the Warblers remembered they were not stranded on a deserted island, and therefore, had no excuse for reenacting _Lord of the Flies_. As they picked their way through the room to take their customary seats on the handsome leather furniture, Wes helped David stand and discovered the reason for the mayhem and Sharpies: David's right arm was in a cast now covered with scrawls. Some Warblers had been content to forcibly sign their names. Others had left messages, such as Wes's name surrounded by little hearts and a drawing of Pavarotti with a "Kurt in the dorms with the glitter" speech bubble.

The Head Warbler's mouth worked furiously to keep the smile at bay. David openly scowled at his fellow Warblers, noting which ones had ruined the tasteful white plaster (and which of those were auditioning for solos).

"This isn't funny, Wes," he snapped. "I have to have this thing on for eight weeks, which means I'm starting college with your name surrounded by hearts on my forearm!"

Wes picked his way to the Council table and took his seat next to Thad, still chortling the whole time. He might have been slightly miffed if they had been coming back to Dalton together, but Wes was going to NYU and David to Harvard.

David stood in front of Cameron and jerked his head towards the Council table. When the incoming senior leapt up and went to take minutes beside Wes, David sat down. Jeff patted Cameron's arm on his way to the front of the room. Wes looked a little forlorn. He'd never not sat next to David at a Warblers meeting. Even when they had both been underclassmen, they always picked seats together.

"I hereby call this meeting to order. Let the minutes show Warbler Cameron James is taking minutes due to Warbler David Thompson's broken arm."

There was more to it than that, and everyone in the room knew it. Another torch had been passed. Jeff had taken Thad's place, and now Cameron had taken David's. As if on the cue, the glee club noticed a conspicuous lack of Blaine and began looking around.

"Warbler Blaine Anderson has been excused from this meeting," Wes murmured. Cameron paused, but soon his pen scratched against the paper as he made note of their missing future leader.

"Is Blaine okay?" Luke inquired. "Is Kurt okay?" Blaine had only missed one meeting before the summer: the day he had disappeared to help Kurt with a bully at McKinley. Wes nodded, but that wasn't enough for all the Warblers.

"Well, if everyone is okay, then why isn't he here?" James wondered. "Whatever the excuse is, I want to use it and go home. Not that I don't love you all, but I see you all the freaking time."

"Gentlemen!" Flint said, above the murmur. "Be sympathetic. This is the first year the Warblers have had so many summer meetings, and Blaine and Kurt do live pretty far away from each other. They can't see each other every day all year."

"Blaine isn't with Kurt," Nick said, sounding reluctant to speak at all. The room went silent, and the Council glanced worriedly at one another. "He told me he forgot about the meeting and scheduled something with Brittany today. They're giving dance lessons to someone called Lord Tubbington."

"That's what he told me in a text," Wes agreed.

"Wait. Isn't Lord Tubbington her cat?" Jeff asked, without thinking.

"Our future _Head Warbler_ is missing an _audition_ to give _dance lessons_ to a _cat_?" Thad asked incredulously.

"That is so ironic I could spend the next year thinking up witty rejoinders," Nick murmured, which earned appreciative laughter. Jeff kicked his shoe and shook his head. The dark-haired boy just shrugged.

Wes banged the gavel down hard on the table. "Will our soloists please wait in the hall? We'll call you in when we're ready. As a reminder, graduate members are excluded from these auditions."

The class of 2011 watched in surprise as nearly every other Warbler, including Cameron who left the Council table, excused themselves to the hallway. Only a few who knew they had no chance of a solo – Richard, who provided the backbeat, and a couple others more comfortable blending in to the group – had remained behind.

"What. The. Hell?" David demanded. "We've never had more than five soloists audition, and that was for competitions."

"Blaine's not here," Thad answered. "And they've rightly guessed we're not giving a solo to a Warbler absent during auditions."

"What do you mean "rightly"?" Wes asked, frowning deeply. "Of course we're assigning Blaine a – "

"Oh, come on, Wes! He skipped an audition to give dance lessons to a cat. That should tell you all you need to know about his priorities, but since you need me to, I'll spell it out for you. Blaine has checked out. He's practically part of New Directions already. Every free moment, he's with Kurt or Kurt's family, Santana, or Brittany."

An uncomfortable silence weighed on the room. The few sophomores, juniors, and seniors still in the room shared significant looks. They usually didn't get to hear the Council's frank discussions about members. The fact that this one was about golden boy Blaine Anderson made it all that much more sordid.

"Be that as it may, Blaine is still a Warbler and our lead soloist," David argued.

"He gave up that spot after Regionals when he insisted the Council distribute solos more evenly. Something which he didn't have the authority to do, by the way," Thad said. "I've seen two Councils worship at his feet, and I'll admit I did too, but only because it was warranted when he was the most dedicated and deserving Warbler."

"This conversation ends here," Wes said sternly. "This is our last meeting presiding as a Council, and I won't have us end our tenure on such a negative note! Blaine will sing "I Do" like the three of us discussed already."

"I can see I'm outvoted," Thad said. "But since we're in the business of assigning solos instead of auditioning for them, I say we give "Somewhere in Brookyln" to Nick. He's more than proven himself this summer."

Wes and David, both looking thoroughly annoyed with their suddenly uncooperative Council member, nodded once. Thad made a note of it in Cameron's minutes, and then went to call in the first soloist for his audition. Nick trotted back into the room with Thad and Nicholas, looking confused. David murmured the news into his ear.

"I really think I should audition," Nick argued.

David shook his head. "It's done. Wes and I don't want to get into an all out fight with Thad right now. This is ugly enough without a shouting match."

As Nicholas started his song, Nick leaned back against the couch and pondered the news that he'd been elevated to Blaine's level. They had had about an even number of solos since after Regionals, but he didn't like the way he'd gotten to that position. Infighting among the Council left a bad legacy for Blaine, Jeff, and Cameron.

Nick paid little attention to the auditions. He deliberated the best course of action and ultimately came up with only one solution.

_ Are you seriously giving dance lessons to a cat? –Nick_

_ Argh! Yes. I thought Lord Tubbington was a nickname for Brittany's crazy uncle or something. –Blaine_

_ Well, there's trouble in Warbler-land. –Nick_

_ What's going on? –Blaine_

_ If I had to guess, I'd say a coup d'état. –Nick_

_ Just hide the gavel like Jeff did before Sectionals. –Blaine_

_ It's not the current owner who's in trouble, man. You are. –Nick_


	9. Somewhere Over the Klainebow

**Chapter Nine**  
><strong>Somewhere Over the Klainebow<strong>

_Third week of July_

"I don't like this," Burt stated again, as he watched the boys loading up the suitcases into the back of Kurt's Navigator. He crossed his arms and huffed for the fifth time in the last sixty seconds. Carole rubbed his upper arm comfortingly. "They're too young for a road trip."

"Oh, Burt!" his wife scoffed. "It's hardly a road trip. St. Louis is seven hours away. We sent Finn and Kurt farther for Nationals on a plane and to a huge city."

"That was different. That was a school trip supervised by a responsible teacher. This … this is Kurt and his boyfriend going on vacation together. I might as well have handed them a box of condoms and patted them on the back." He swallowed thickly. "Oh, God. I'm one of _those _parents. I feel sick."

"You are not one of those parents, Burt. Kurt and Blaine will both have their brothers there, and I'm sure Blaine's mother will want to spend a lot of time with him since they'll be the same city for once." She clucked her tongue. "I can't imagine being that far away from Finn most of the year."

"How did they talk me into this?" Burt grumbled.

"By being exceptionally good kids. Just try to remember that you actually do like Blaine."

Burt huffed again.

Once all the luggage had been secured, including Blaine's guitar, the boys returned to the front porch to say their good-byes. Before Burt let them leave, he went over the ground rules again: no speeding, no texting while driving, no alcohol, and no other "various acts of stupidity."

"We're counting on you to use good judgment," Burt lectured. "If we get a call from the Missouri police about any of you, I will chain you in your rooms until you're thirty."

"And then maybe the Ohio police will get a call about you," Kurt quipped. Finn and Blaine looked away to hide their smiles. Their chipper attitudes did nothing to assuage Burt's worry.

"Let's go over the plan again," Burt insisted.

"The Plan" had been mapped out with Burt and Carole over Friday night dinner. Kurt recited it with a hint of irritation. "We drive to Dayton and call to say we haven't died in a fiery explosion on the interstate. Then we drive to Indianapolis and call to say we haven't died because we didn't pick up any axe-wielding hitchhikers. Then we drive to – "

"I could live without the attitude," Burt said. He did a double take when he saw Carole's face buried in her hands and her shoulders shaking. "Are you kidding me, Carole?"

Carole looked up, tears of laughter leaking out of her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said, as she broke into another peal of laughter. "It's just that you weren't so disgruntled last night when we talked about how we would have the house to ourselves for a whole week."

Kurt and Finn recoiled with audible protests. With several more lectures along the way, the boys made their way to the Navigator. Finn declared he was, "Not Shotgun!" so he could stretch out across the whole backseat. Blaine didn't protest having the front seat beside Kurt.

"Oh, Mr. Hummel, I forgot to ask if you'd do me a favor." Burt narrowed his eyes at Blaine. "The Mustang, it doesn't do so well if it just sits. Do you think you could drive it a few times this week?"

Burt accepted the car keys. "Don't think I don't know what this is all about."

Blaine grinned, but didn't deny he was trying to soften up his boyfriend's father. He jumped into the passenger seat and waved as Kurt backed out of the driveway. Burt yelled admonitions about seatbelts, speed limits, and not trusting the GPS too much until Kurt gave a pointed wave, put the Navigator in drive, and pulled away.

"Guh. Finally," Kurt groaned. He leaned forward to fiddle with the radio, but Blaine swatted his hand away.

"Tisk. What did your dad say about messing with the radio and driving?"

In the back, Finn chortled. "Oh, man. This trip is gonna be totally awesome."

Kurt gave his boyfriend his fiercest bitch glare, but Blaine ignored him. He hooked up his iPod and started the playlist. Katy Perry blared out of the speakers, but from the next song it was clear Blaine had considered his fellow travelers. Lady Gaga played next, followed by Don Henley.

"It sounds like a schizophrenic made this playlist," Kurt grumbled during "Boys of Summer." Finn and Blaine didn't hear him. They were too busy singing about empty lakes and streets.

"Come on, Kurt. Sing!" Blaine cajoled, and leaned far over the center console to croon at him with pleading eyes.

"_I never will forget those nights._  
><em>I wonder if it was a dream.<em>  
><em>Remember how you drove me crazy?<em>  
><em>Remember how I made you scream?"<em>

"Blaine!" Kurt gasped, smacking his boyfriend's arm.

"Dude," Finn said, leaning between the front seats. "You just turned a song about baseball into a song about sex. And because the song is "Boys of Summer" it's like a gay thing too." He held up his palm for Blaine to high-five.

Kurt may have muttered something about murdering his brother before they even got to Dayton. He gawked when Blaine actually did the high-five and rolled his eyes when his brother and boyfriend started discussing their favorite baseball teams.

"This is _so_not how I imagined a vacation with my boyfriend," Kurt murmured.

Thankfully, the sports talk died out before long, and they made the drive to Dayton in relative peace. All three boys had woken up early to start their day, and the energy level waned with the boring scenery along I-75. Finn dozed in the backseat, so Kurt made the executive decision to push on past Dayton without stopping. As he merged onto I-70 towards Indianapolis, Blaine called Burt to let him know their progress.

"I think he said something about thunderstorms, but he was in the shop so I couldn't hear very well," Blaine said, after he hung up the phone.

"I'm not dealing with radio commercials waiting for a weather report."

Blaine already knew Kurt's irritation with radio stations and had called up the Weather Channel app on this phone. He checked the weather conditions for Indiana, but the radar showed clear skies. He shrugged.

"I guess I heard him wrong."

Finn woke up not long after they crossed the Ohio-Indiana state line and immediately complained about being hungry. He rummaged through the cooler of snacks Kurt had packed, but found the fresh chopped vegetables and hummus unacceptable.

"I can't live on this stuff, Kurt," he whined. "Let's stop and get some real food. My legs are cramping anyway."

"You've been stretched out in the backseat! How do you think Blaine and I feel sitting up front? And we're not stopping until we get to Indianapolis."

Finn sulked in the backseat for exactly five minutes when Kurt saw him open his mouth in the rearview mirror.

"I swear, Finn Hudson, if you ask 'Are we there yet?' …."

Kurt turned his attention back to the road and passing a lumbering tractor-trailer. He didn't hear the sound of a tennis shoe thumping against the passenger seat or the silent exchange with furious hand gestures going on beside him.

"Kurt?" Blaine asked sweetly, his lips twitching slightly. "Are we there yet?"

The countertenor gripped the wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white while Finn erupted into peals of laughter. Blaine had the decency to stifle his mirth and tried to soothe his boyfriend by lightly brushing his fingers through Kurt's hair. They couldn't get to Indianapolis fast enough.

An hour later, Kurt gave in to Finn's moans and pulled into a gas station just off the interstate. While he filled up the tank, Finn went into the convenience store to replenish their snack supplies with provisions he found adequate. Blaine stayed outside with Kurt, sweating in the sultry Midwestern afternoon, and paced around to stretch his cramped leg muscles.

"We're going to be back here in a month performing a musical," Kurt stated. He grabbed his ankles, one at a time, and stretched his legs like he'd learned in Cheerios. "I don't care how much time we spend rehearsing, I'll never feel like I'm prepared enough." Placing his hands on his hips, he twisted around until he felt the tightness in his back lessen. "I know it's just a stupid Renaissance Faire, but I get to put a starring role on my CV. I hate to echo Rachel, but this is excellent practice for when we go to New York." He did a toe touch and groaned at the pleasant feeling in his calves and thighs. "You know, you still haven't told me if you plan to go into musical theater or perform your own music."

Kurt stood up, sufficiently limbered up for the next leg of their drive, and turned expectantly to Blaine. He wanted an answer to his question about his boyfriend's plans for New York. Instead, he found Blaine gaping at him with a noticeable tent in his pants.

"Blaine!" Kurt scolded, pushing his boyfriend out of plain view and between the Navigator and gas pump. "Now is not the time!"

"God, you're flexible." He practically moaned the words, sending a violent blush to Kurt's cheeks.

"We're in public in the middle of Indiana, which is not much better than Ohio. In fact, I think it's worse. Oh, and my brother is coming out of the convenience store right now," Kurt hissed.

"It's not my fault you decided to bend over and wiggle your ass in the air," Blaine objected.

Finn had reached them and stopped dead. The plastic sacks full of potato chips, beef jerky, and Mountain Dew swung from his wrists. The boyfriends' cheeks colored, and Blaine danced away to climb into the passenger's seat to hide his situation.

"It's cool, dude," Finn said, jumping into the driver's seat. "We're all seventeen and guys."

Outside the car, Kurt snorted humorously while inside, Blaine flusher a deeper shade of red and crossed his legs. A few minutes later, Kurt claimed the backseat and tucked the gas receipt into the envelope in his messenger bag. He'd promised his dad he would keep all the credit card receipts together, so he held out his hand for Finn's receipt and added it to the collection.

On the way back to the interstate, Finn ignored Kurt's onslaught of verbal protests and went through a Taco Bell drive thru. He and Blaine ordered enough burritos and tacos to feed a small army; Kurt settled for a taco salad minus the beans.

"You are never driving my car again," Kurt stated, popping open the lid of his taco salad. He huffed when he saw the piddling amount of lettuce in his "salad."

Once Kurt calmed down, the drive away from Indianapolis became mostly pleasant. From his vantage point in the backseat, he could see how easily his brother and boyfriend got along. It made him deliriously happy to see the mutual friendship growing between them. His family all genuinely liked and approved of the boy he loved.

"Penny for your thoughts," Blaine murmured, craning around in his seat to catch Kurt's pensive expression.

"I love you," he sighed dreamily.

"I love you too."

"I want to play I Spy," Finn said, ruining the mood entirely.

They played I Spy all the way to the Indiana-Illinois border, but with nothing to spy but grass, road, cows, cornfields, and other cars the game couldn't go on forever without getting boring. Finn asked about Warbler harmonies, which led to the boy singing "Yellow Submarine" as a three part harmony. Then they lapsed into comfortable silence until they neared Effingham and Finn couldn't resist making lewd jokes.

"I think we should stop and stretch now," Blaine said. "I think maybe those thunderstorms your dad was talking about were in Illinois."

Lightning flashed ominously in steely gray clouds on the horizon. Finn pulled into a gas station across the street from a dingy shopping plaza. This time Finn pumped the gas while Blaine and Kurt went inside to get fresh drinks. Snacks were superfluous at this point with Finn's excess supplies. They were about two hours away from Blaine's mom's house, and she had already let her son know she would be taking them all to a nice dinner.

"Are you going to do your cheerleading stretches again?" Blaine asked hopefully. Kurt gave him a warning look and stepped into line. "Maybe later tonight? You'll probably be really stiff after dinner."

"A double entendre, Blaine? Really?" The tenor flushed, and Kurt laughed lightly. "Are you so horny you didn't even realize?"

Blaine started at the word "horny" and ducked his head. Kurt rather enjoyed unsettling his normally composed boyfriend so easily. He made sure to exit the store in front of Blaine and shimmy his hips. He heard Blaine moan lustily behind him, and when they climbed into the front seat, he saw Blaine's eyes had darkened.

"We're going to have fun tonight," Kurt whispered into his boyfriend's ear.

He decided he should stop with the teasing since Finn had finished filling up the tank and was returning from the restroom. Also, he didn't want Blaine too distracted while driving his car through a thunderstorm. They agreed Blaine should drive the last stretch since he knew the way to his mom's house in St. Louis.

The first heavy raindrops splattered against the windshield while Finn was on the phone with Burt. Blaine switched on the wipers and focused on keeping the SUV steady in the strong, gusty wind. The last two hours of their trip proved much less entertaining with a storm to worry about. Luckily, the thunderstorm turned into a light rain closer to St. Louis, and they approached the city under a rain-soaked gray sky.

"It looks like an old movie backdrop," Kurt gasped. "It's so beautiful."

Blaine took a ramp off the interstate and made a series of turns that utterly confounded the GPS until it simply repeated "Recalculating" over and over. Kurt eventually unplugged it and tossed it into the glove compartment. At last, they pulled into the driveway of a handsome red brick two story with colorful flowerbeds along the front walk.

Kurt suddenly felt very nervous. He'd known that at the end of the trip, he would be meeting Blaine's mother and brother, but between the long day and singing and car games, he had managed to forget until this very moment that he desperately wanted to impress this woman. As he climbed out of the car and popped open the umbrella, he tried to smooth out the wrinkles in his red pants and adjusted his bow tie, but he couldn't be sure he was well put together until he saw himself in a full length mirror.

Before Kurt could even consider using the Navigator as a makeshift mirror, the front door opened. A petite middle aged woman, maybe four inches shorter than Blaine, with a mass of black curls came out onto the porch. As she ran through the rain, Kurt took in her outfit. She wore cutoff jean shorts and billowing white Bohemian top. Her bare feet, toes adorned with hot pink polish and toe rings, slapped against the wet concrete. It took him a full thirty seconds after she launched at Blaine and attached herself to his neck to realize that this as Grace Adams, Blaine's mother.

"Oh, my little boy is finally home!" Grace cooed, alternating between squeezing the air out of Blaine's lungs and peering lovingly into his face. She kept running her hands over his cheeks and through his hair, as if trying to memorize him. It didn't seem to matter to her that they were standing in the rain getting soaked to the skin; she just wanted a moment with her son. Kurt felt choked up. "I've missed you so much, Roo."

"Mom!" Blaine squawked, his cheeks reddening.

Grace finally released him and noticed Kurt and Finn standing under umbrellas some feet away. Her face lit up with a smile when her eyes found Kurt. She practically sprang at him, and Kurt suddenly understood where Blaine got his incredible energy during performances. Grace reigned herself in at the last minute.

"Of course, I'm soaked through, and Blaine told me how conscientious you are about your appearance, Kurt. We'll save the hug for after we're inside and I've got on dry clothes."

Kurt felt the surge of emotion in his chest again. Without any real thought except that he wanted to cry for joy and thank this woman for loving Blaine so freely like her ex-husband never did, Kurt dropped the umbrella and wrapped Grace in a hug. She embraced him eagerly, bouncing up onto her tiptoes to make herself a little taller. Blaine looked on misty-eyed.

"You're getting yourself all wet," Grace cooed, pulling away. "You'll ruin your lovely Marc McQueen clothes." Kurt fought off his smile as she lifted the umbrella to cover them. She observed Kurt much the same way she had Blaine, with her hands, though she refrained from actually touching his now damp locks. "You're always very handsome in pictures, Kurt, but they really don't do you justice. You are every bit as dazzling as Blaine said you were."

Kurt flushed. "Thank you, Ms. Adams. That's very kind, but – "

"Oh!" she cried, clasping her hands over her mouth. "You really are a countertenor! Your singing voice must be so lovely. I can't wait to hear you sing. You will sing for me?"

He stammered out a yes before Grace moved on to greeting Finn. This was not how Kurt imagined meeting his boyfriend's mother was supposed to go. Wasn't she meant to dislike him on principle? Criticize his love of fashion and high voice?

"Mom, let them come in from the rain at least," a laughing male voice called.

Kurt turned to see Blaine's doppelganger standing on the porch. That is, if Blaine let his hair grow to his shoulders and stopped fighting the curl. The speaker, who must be Riley Anderson, wore green cargo shorts and a white v-neck with brown flip-flops. He might have sauntered into St. Louis from a California beach. Blaine bounded up to the porch to embrace his older brother.

While Blaine and Riley greeted each other, Kurt and Finn started unloading the suitcases. Grace dashed to the shelter of the porch with Blaine's guitar. Seeing the case of his precious instrument flecked with water brought Blaine back to the real world. Once all the luggage had been dragged into the living room and piled around the coffee table, Riley said hello to Finn and then turned to Kurt.

"So you're my brother's prince charming? God, our dad must hate you." Kurt didn't know what to make of the statement until Riley broke into a broad grin and held out his hand. "Nice to meet you, man."

"_Riley_," Grace said warningly, but even her disapproval held a hint of warmth for her son. "Why don't you show Finn to the guest room? Kurt, you're welcome to take the other guest bedroom or stay with Blaine. I'm going to go dry off."

Kurt stared at Grace's retreating back, and then glanced at Blaine. "Seriously? She doesn't mind if we sleep in the same room?"

"She would if we were younger, but we're almost adults. Riley's girlfriend stays overnight all the time. I, uh, maybe should have mentioned that sooner, but I didn't want you to have to tell your dad my mom is a permissive, liberal hippy." The countertenor laughed once. "But, Kurt, you don't have to stay in my room if you're not comfortable."

"Of course I'm sleeping in your room," Kurt answered.

Kurt followed Blaine upstairs and down the hall to a smallish bedroom overlooking the manicured backyard. The room held only a few traces of Blaine since he rarely lived here, but someone had tried to make it his own by using his favorite colors. Kurt unpacked his suitcase in one of two dressers and set out all his moisturizing products on the vanity. He started twice to bring up something he'd always wondered about.

"Spit it out, Kurt. There's nothing you can't say to me," Blaine said at last.

"It's just …. Your mom and brother are so accepting of you, of us. Why do you live with your dad who can't even accept that you're gay, much less that you have a girly boyfriend?"

Blaine dropped a pile of jeans and rounded on his boyfriend. "You're not girly, Kurt! You're a man. You're all man. Just because you don't act like a machismo Neanderthal doesn't make you girly."

The reaction took Kurt aback. He'd long ago come to terms with his high voice and effete mannerism as part of who he was, but he knew how the world saw him. He hadn't realized Blaine felt so strongly about gender stereotypes. After all, Blaine himself was pretty masculine.

"Dalton," Blaine said, once he'd calmed down a little. "My parents divorced just after the bullying at my old school got too bad and I transferred. I'd just settled into Dalton, and I stayed with my mom on the weekends. But then she got a job offer here in St. Louis where she grew up, and my grandparents are getting older, so …."

"Why not spend vacations with her, though? I can already tell you're happier here." Blaine gave Kurt a stern look, and Kurt sucked in a breath. "No, Blaine. You didn't – You stayed in Ohio for _me_?"

Blaine fiddled with a pile of sweaters that were already neatly arranged in the drawer. He gave a dry laugh. "Does that make me a creepy, clingy boyfriend or what?"

Kurt stepped up behind Blaine and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend's waist. He pressed light kisses to Blaine's neck and nuzzled the curls appearing as his wet hair dried. "Maybe, but I'm happy you're close to me all summer. That _does_make me a selfish boyfriend, but I can't get enough of you. I love you so much, Blaine."

A mechanical click shortly preceded a flash of light. Kurt and Blaine turned to see Riley standing in the doorway, his iPhone held at arm's length. He cooed dramatically at the screen before flipping it around to show the boys the picture. Kurt inhaled sharply at the intimate moment captured on screen. He could see the love they shared on their faces and in their posture.

"Riley, can we …"

Five minutes later, Blaine and Kurt both had the picture set as the background on their phones and uploaded as their profile pictures on Facebook. They headed out to dinner holding hands and exchanging doe eyes in the backseat of Grace's Acura. Finn and Riley kept up a constant stream of mock disgust.

**o o o**

A series of gentle taps on the door roused Kurt from sleep on Monday morning. He felt uncomfortably warm despite the air conditioning blowing cool air down from the ceiling vents. Not until Blaine snuffled in his sleep and shifted closer did Kurt understand why he felt so hot. His boyfriend's soft chest hair against his back reminded him of his own nudity beneath the duvet, and a blush crept clear to his chest as he recalled the events of last night.

"Blaine? Kurt? You should get ready and have some breakfast before going to Six Flags," Grace called through the door.

Kurt froze, acutely aware that he had Grace's naked son pressed up against him right now. Last night, he'd had Blaine in even more compromising positions. The pillow Kurt had used to muffle his cries of ecstasy as Blaine sucked him off for the first time still bore his teeth marks. He panicked, wondering if they had been too loud, and if she knew what her baby boy had done last night.

"Mmnhm, Mah," Blaine mumbled. Grace must have taken that as an affirmative answer because Kurt heard her footsteps padding away a moment later. "Yoo up?"

The taller boy rolled over to observe his bleary-eyed boyfriend floundering around in the sea of covers. Their enthusiastic romp last night had popped the fitted sheet free of the mattress, and Blaine's elbow had become tangled in it. Kurt chuckled lightly watching him struggle. Blaine protested in a stream of disconnected vowels and hums.

"Come on, sleepyhead. It's your first performance at Six Flags today. We need to get you into the shower and caffeinated."

Blaine didn't respond until Kurt rose from the bed and self-consciously pulled on the discarded pajama pants on the floor. When he returned to the bed to physically push Blaine out, if he had to, he found his boyfriend staring at him bright-eyed. Kurt wanted so badly to climb back into bed and lose himself in pleasure for a few minutes, but his boyfriend's mom waited for them downstairs. Blaine protested wordlessly when Kurt grabbed his shower caddy and headed down the hall.

Riley and Finn had graciously allowed Kurt the first shower, so he kept it as quick as possible and returned to Blaine's room to finish his morning moisturizing routine. They would be out in the heat all day under a blazing sun, so he spent a little extra time applying sunscreen. He had also thought ahead and packed a couple fashionable hats to shield his pale skin from the sun.

Blaine returned from the downstairs shower as Kurt adjusted the teal fedora with single white feather. He saw his boyfriend checking out his immaculate outfit in the mirror – or, he realized after a moment, checking out his ass. Blaine's eyes met his in the mirror and then he brazenly dropped his towel. Kurt felt his pants tighten and huffed in annoyance.

"Stop trying to seduce me with your mother twenty steps away! I really don't want her to come get us for breakfast only to find me on my knees."

Kurt smirked slightly, seeing Blaine had gotten a taste of his own medicine, and flounced out of the room, making sure to sway his hips in just that way that got Blaine going. He wasn't prepared for the slap on the ass that followed. He paused on the stairs to catch his breath and will away his hard on.

After a breakfast of fresh fruit and pancakes, Riley helped Blaine load his guitar into his car, and they drove across St. Louis to Six Flags. On the way, Riley pointed out things he and Grace had planned for them to do together during the week. Kurt hadn't known anything about St. Louis other than the Arch, but expected Grace to show them around several art galleries. Riley had tickets to a Cardinals game and _Mamma Mia!_at the Fabulous Fox Theater. He'd also used his college contacts to procure fake IDs for them all so they could visit the Anheuser-Busch Brewery.

"Don't look so scandalized, Blaine," Riley chided. "Next year, when you're in college, this little piece of plastic is going to make you a _god_."

Kurt peered down at the picture of himself on the Missouri driver's license and chuckled. He could hardly pass for his real age, much less _twenty-three_. He stored it in his wallet without commenting on the fact that he wouldn't be using it anytime soon. Blaine did the same with a little shake of his head.

At Six Flags, Riley pulled around to the restricted access entrance and let Blaine give his performer's credentials to the security guard. He was given directions on where to present himself and a pass for Riley to keep on the dash. The plan was for Riley, Finn, and Kurt to enjoy the theme park while Blaine met with the stage manager, got acquainted with the other performers, and did a sound check. Then at six o'clock, they would take their seats, joined by Grace, to watch Blaine's show.

Kurt had no interest in rides that make him need to vomit. He would have rather loitered around backstage all day waiting for Blaine, but didn't want to get in the way or distract his boyfriend. He reluctantly followed Riley and Finn through the theme park, praying they wouldn't team up to force him onto a rollercoaster.

The older brothers hit it off well and had no shortage of conversation topics: demanding girlfriends, drums, video games, and action movies. It all sounded very typically male, and not that interesting to Kurt, until Finn mentioned meeting Patti LuPone in New York. Kurt knew no other way to describe Riley's reaction other than to say he fanboyed. Blaine had told him Riley was studying Music with the hope of one day composing musicals, but he hadn't said exactly how much his brother adored Broadway.

"Patti LuPone! Patti freakin' LuPone! Broadway has never seen her equal! She said you were cute? Oh my God! I'd give my left arm to have her even notice me, let alone a compliment like that. What did you say to her? Did you get an autograph? A picture? A hug?"

It all might have been extremely funny – Finn and Kurt sure had a hard time not cracking up – except a group of muscular college guys in tank tops strode by during Riley's spiel. Between Riley's exaggerated mannerisms and Kurt's flamboyant outfit, they had all the ammunition they needed. Kurt knew what was coming and braced himself for the ignorant hate.

"Fucking fags!" one of the guys shouted.

Riley stopped dead in the middle of his exaltations of Patti LuPone and spun to see who had shouted the hateful words. Kurt recognized the anger in his eyes and set of his jaw. Apparently, so did Finn, and he caught Riley not a second too late. The older Anderson had launched himself at the group, every last one of whom had six inches and fifty pounds on him.

"Kurt. Help," Finn grounded out. For all his small size, Riley had fight in him, and Finn struggled to hold him back.

"Let me go, Finn!" the older boy demanded. "They're talking about our brothers, damn it! Let's do something about it!"

"It won't do any good, Riley," Kurt reasoned. "And we'd be stooping to their level. What do you think will happen if two guys they think are gay beat the crap out of them? It will make their hate that much stronger, and they'll take it out on someone else."

That sobered Riley up, and he stopped fighting Finn. When Finn was satisfied Riley would let it go, he loosened his hold. The Neanderthals walked away, flipping their wrists and swishing their hips in mockery, congratulating each other on their ignorance. Riley breathed heavily and wiped away the sweat that had broken out on his forehead.

"I'm sorry, guys." He turned away to give himself time to calm down. "You know, I'm only two years older than Blaine. I was there at his old school with him. Did he tell you?" Kurt shook his head. Finn, not knowing what that meant, kept quiet. "I was _right there_, everyday, but I was too busy trying to be popular and get into my girlfriend's pants to see what was happening to my brother. I was there that night too, but I was so fucking worried about getting my drums packed up after the performance …."

"Riley, it's not your – "

"Don't, Kurt," Finn interjected. "Sorry, dude, but you can't really understand. But I do," he said to Riley. "Kurt's got a point, though, Riley. You can't go all _Braveheart_on them without making it worse."

"I fucking love that movie," Riley answered.

They didn't mention the encounter the rest of the day. Kurt marveled at their ability to turn off their emotions so easily. He still felt the sting of the mockery and unsettled by Riley's reaction. He'd seen a similar impulse in Blaine during the Night of Neglect benefit, but not nearly as violent.

Finn and Riley strong-armed Kurt onto two rollercoasters, and he quickly discovered the thrilling rides distracted him from unpleasant philosophical ponderings, so he consented to ride everything they wanted to as long as there was a seat so he could safely tuck his hat between his knees. Kurt would kill someone if he lost his favorite new hat.

As the hour neared six o'clock, they made their way to the performance pavilion where Grace waited for them, chatting with a group of college-aged students. Kurt marked them as her art students immediately. Over half of them wore ill-fitting paint-splattered jeans and Wayfarers. Riley greeted one of the girls with a kiss and introduced her as Sara, his girlfriend.

"I've seen enough performances at theme parks this summer to last a lifetime," Kurt commented to Finn. "And they're always accompanied by some kind of homophobic drama."

"What's this?" Grace demanded, turning in her seat to face Kurt. "Tell me what's happened." Seeing the uncertainly on his face, she clarified. "I know about King's Island and what your father did for Blaine. I would like to meet him and your stepmom the next I'm in Ohio, by the way. What I meant was, what happened today?"

Kurt's eyes slipped from her face to Riley sitting down the row. "Blaine wasn't there."

"I'm happy to hear my son wasn't hurt, but that's hardly the point, Kurt. Are _you_okay?"

"Yes," he said, thankful for the opening to avoid mentioning Riley's reaction. He didn't want to get in the middle of that situation. "I'm perfectly fine, Grace."

The _A Lifetime Unplugged _show began with a stirring segment of Johnny Cash songs performed by a wizened older man with exceptional guitar skills. He sang the lyrics as if he'd lived a rich life and come out the other side wiser. Kurt had no idea how anyone could follow that and felt a stab of worry for Blaine. He took out his phone and texted his boyfriend while the acts changed.

_ How are you feeling? –Kurt_

_ Is that your way of telling me I've got a tough act to follow? –Blaine_

_ No. I want to know if you're nervous. –Kurt_

_ I heard William's set, Kurt. I know I've got a lot to live up to. –Blaine_

_ You'll blow us all away. –Kurt_

The next two acts did nothing for Kurt. Although he recognized their musical talent, he didn't particularly care for the artists their sets paid homage to. Blaine came onto the stage next with his guitar slung over his shoulder. Kurt clapped wildly as his boyfriend sat down on the stool and positioned the guitar. He had heard Blaine play guitar only a few times, but he'd been awed each time.

Blaine began playing a slow, gentle melody that must have been drastically different to the original song because Kurt didn't recognize it. When Blaine started singing, Kurt's heart leapt into his chest, and his eyes went glassy.

"_You think I'm pretty without any makeup on_  
><em>You think I'm funny when I tell the punch line wrong<em>  
><em>I know you get me, so I let my walls come down, down."<em>

Kurt listened to the song in a daze, memories playing like a movie behind his eyes. He saw a cute boy with a pocket watch on the stairs, ran down a hallway holding his hand, drank countless cups of coffee, argued and made up, held hands, shared a first kiss, talked about the future, explored a body, fell in love.

The last notes of "Teenage Dream" blended in to the beginning of another song, and Kurt secretly wondered if the whole setlist had been organized as a kind of love letter to him. If Blaine had picked these songs, he had certainly gotten better at romance.

"_You don't have to feel like a waste of space_  
><em>You're original, cannot be replaced<em>  
><em>If you only knew what the future holds<em>  
><em>After a hurricane comes a rainbow."<em>

Kurt became aware of a theme to the _Unplugged _show. Not only did each performer highlight a certain artist's music, but the songs in each set conveyed the same emotions. As the youngest performer, Blaine sang about teenage love. He knew even before Blaine had finished "Firework" what the closing song would be. Sure enough, Blaine obliged, though he had arranged the song so as not to offend the family-friendly audience.

"_Oh My God, no exaggeration_  
><em>Boy, all this time was worth the waiting<em>  
><em>I just a shed tear<em> _I am so unprepared_  
><em>You've got the finest architecture<em>  
><em>End of the rainbow looking treasure<em>  
><em>Such a sight to see<em>  
><em>And it's all for me."<em>

Kurt felt his face go bright red, mainly because Riley leaned forward, gave him two thumbs up, and mouthed "Get some!" – all of which Grace saw. When Blaine looked down at him from the stage and gave a wink, he dropped his face into his hands. He couldn't help but feel this was retribution for the teasing this morning.

"Aren't we seeing this show four more times this week?" Finn asked his still beet-red brother.

Kurt groaned. The _A Lifetime Unplugged _did indeed run all week, and Kurt had insisted on having tickets to see every performance.

The applause at the end of the song varied greatly depending on age. The younger members of the audience showered Blaine with adoration for daring to sing the song. The older audience members simply refused to clap.

The show ended with all four performers on stage together to sing the e.e. cumming's poem "Maggie and Milly and Molly and May" ala Natalie Merchant. It was the perfect ending to the acoustic regression of a life.

**o o o**

Blaine, Kurt, Riley, and Finn repeated the adventure of Monday for the rest of the week. If Grace didn't have a class or showing, she joined the boys at whatever activity they had picked for the day. Kurt endured the Cardinals game with minimal complaining, and Finn tried not to grumble while being packed into the tiny car travelling to the top of the Arch. They all enjoyed _Mamma Mia!_even though Sara tagged along and complained about how much she loathed ABBA the whole way home. Four hours in Sara's company had Kurt thinking fondly of Rachel Berry.

Kurt felt guilty intruding on Blaine's time with his family and arranged for he and Finn to be mysteriously absent a couple evenings. Grace claimed they could all go buy postcards of the Budweiser Clydesdales for Burt (or whatever excuse he created), but he could see she was grateful for some alone time with her youngest son.

On Friday night, the last night of the _Unplugged _show, Grace had a gallery opening to attend in support of a fellow faculty member. She left the boys with a half-hearted admonition about behaving themselves. Soon after she left the house, Riley declared it was time for an after party.

"I've called a cab, and we will be at the Anheuser-Busch Brewery within the hour," Riley declared jovially. "Go make yourselves look older."

Finn didn't know what that entailed, but trundled off to the guest bedroom to try anyway. Kurt and Blaine remained seated on the couch, both staring pointedly at Riley.

"Yeah, I didn't figure my perfect baby brother would be up for a night at a brewery," he laughed. "I got you a consolation prize."

Riley defined "consolation prize" as a stash of liquor not even Rachel Berry's dads could rival. When he showed them the cache in his closet ("I hid it where I keep my porn so mom wouldn't look there."), Blaine stared wide-eyed – and gingerly turned over a magazine cover sporting a naked woman. Riley had gone for all the staples in addition to some margarita mix, wine coolers, and fruit juice.

Finn and Riley left for the brewery when the cab pulled up, both psyched up and certain they – at seventeen and nineteen, respectively – could pull off their plans for the night. Blaine had twenty dollars riding on them returning home in an hour; Kurt expected a call from the St. Louis police.

"Remember," Riley said mock seriously, "drunk fucking on any surface our mother touches on a daily basis is not cool."

Blaine yelled abuse at his brother as he and Finn dashed down the walkway to the waiting cab, but Kurt was laughing. He'd come to truly enjoy Riley's presence over the course of the week, and he looked forward to college in New York with Riley close by.

They decided that they'd better keep the "after party" confined to Blaine's room, in case Grace came home earlier than expected or they drank too much and couldn't clean up after themselves. Hauling the box of alcohol and porn into Blaine's room took considerable effort. Blaine went to get cups, ice, sugar, and the blender from the kitchen and returned to find Kurt flipping through one of Riley's magazines.

"I don't think that particular title has any penises in it," Blaine commented dryly.

"Hmm. No, it doesn't. Do you think straight girls fanaticize about gay men the way straight guys do over lesbians?"

"No way. Girls aren't that perverted."

Their conversation paused for the next thirty seconds while Blaine turned on the blender to make Kurt's margarita. When he handed the cup of icy liquid to his boyfriend, the lesbian porn had disappeared. He poured himself a generous amount of rum and coke and hopped onto the bed next Kurt.

"What are we supposed to do while we underage drink without a party?" Kurt wondered, sipping at his drink and then smacking his lips. Blaine had no idea. "Then I think this situation should be underscored by getting drunk while we watch _Mulan_."

Blaine laughed heartily while Kurt popped the DVD into his laptop and brought it over to the bed. They giggled childishly during the open scenes. Disney movies and alcohol proved a deadly combination. The more they thought about it, the funnier it became, and the faster they drank. Blaine had already loosened up considerably by the time "I'll Make a Man Out of You" started, and he sang it suggestively to Kurt. They had trouble standing upright while "True to Your Heart" played over the end credits, but managed to flail themselves around the bedroom in some semblance of dancing.

"I'm so glad you drank with me this time," Blaine slurred. He stumbled, grabbed onto Kurt's waist to steady himself, and nuzzled his face under his boyfriend's chin.

"I'm not _that_far gone. You might have inhaled a bottle of rum, but I only had margaritas."

Kurt tightened his hold on Blaine and guided them back to the bed before they both fell over. The tenor fell face-first onto the mattress, giggling at the boneless feeling in his limbs. A lot of shoving and pulling on Kurt's part got them seated against the headboard again. He started _The Breakfast Club_in the laptop, and then let Blaine settle against his chest.

Kurt had known since Rachel's disastrous party that Blaine turned into a lush while drunk, but his affectionate nature at that party paled in comparison to what was happening here. He was, to borrow Finn's labels, a "slutty boy" drunk. He clearly had more on his mind than cuddling when he worked his leg over Kurt's waist and started rubbing himself against Kurt's thigh.

"You are never allowed to get drunk in public," the countertenor laughed.

Blaine tipped his head back to peer up at his boyfriend with a pouty expression. "Why are you laughing at me, Kurt? I'm trying to seduce you."

"Yes, but I think you're a little too far gone for that right now."

"Nu-uh. No, I'm not. I'ma seduce you. Just watch."

Enthusiastic dancing had worked some of Blaine's curls free, and Kurt tangled his fingers in them. His boyfriend's eyes slipped closed and he hummed pleasantly at the feeling. "You look like a puppy having his stomach scratched."

Blaine tried to sit up and almost fell off the bed, so Kurt steadied him and watched, amused, as Blaine tried to take off his own shirt. Ten minutes later, taking pity on his boyfriend, he pulled off the cotton shirt, thus freeing both of Blaine's elbows from the armholes. Next, Blaine tried to remove Kurt's shirt, but the small buttons proved impossible for someone probably seeing in triplicate.

"Take your shirt off, then I'll seduce you."

Chuckling lightly, Kurt obliged. He even conceded to taking off his and Blaine's pants. It didn't matter how horny Blaine felt at the moment, the seduction would halt as soon as he realized the negative effects of alcohol on his anatomy.

Blaine grinned dopily, but Kurt thought he'd probably meant it to look predatory, as he crawled up Kurt's body and planted a wet, sloppy kiss that tasted of rum on Kurt. The brunet obliged, enjoying the kisses in his own less inhibited state and waited for the realization to dawn on Blaine. Kurt gasped into his boyfriend's mouth as he felt Blaine palming him through his underwear.

"I've been singing about your cock all week," Blaine said into Kurt's ear before sucking the lobe into his mouth. He released it for a moment to murmur, "and now I want it."

Kurt's head fell back against the headboard with a thud. His diminished brain function hadn't presented this possibility to him. Blaine might have had too much alcohol, but Kurt had not, and his body most definitely responded to Blaine's touch.

"B-Blaine, st-st-stop. You're drunk and – " He cried out wordlessly. Blaine had done something incredible with his hand, and it was suddenly so much harder to think. " – can't, I can't take – _ah_ – advantage of – _ugnh_."

"I want your cock, Kurt," he said between wet kisses to Kurt's jaw, neck, and chest. "I want it buried so deep in my ass I can't walk straight for a week."

The dirty confession put Kurt past the point of rational thought. He'd been fanaticizing about that very thing since their first time coming together. He flipped his boyfriend over and grounded into him mercilessly. As he expected, the alcohol kept Blaine's body from reacting, but that didn't seem to make much difference to the boy in question, who writhed under Kurt like he was born for it. Kurt lasted far longer than normal, and his orgasm wasn't as satisfying as he'd hoped – either because of the alcohol or the dubious morality of using his drunk boyfriend as a hump toy.

When he came back from the cleaning himself up in the bathroom, he found Blaine passed out with a happy smile on his lips. Kurt pulled him into a cuddle and gave in to his pleasurable weariness.

A series gentle taps on the door brought them into the waking world like it had every day this week. Only today, their heads throbbed painfully and stomachs churned uneasily. Blaine ran into Riley in the hallway and scowled at his chipper-looking brother.

"Looks like you had more fun than Finn and me. They totally bought me as twenty-two, but the dumbass I got the fake IDs from said Finn was twenty-five. What the fuck, you know?" Riley said, not so loud his mother would her, but loud enough to make Blaine cringe.

The brothers made their way downstairs and tussled for first dibs on the bathroom. Riley lost only because Blaine looked about ready to throw up, so he afforded his brother the toilet first. Once he heard the shower running, he barged in and started the morning off right by flushing the toilet. Blaine cursed loudly when the water turned icy cold. Satisfied, Riley squirted toothpaste onto his toothbrush and held a conversation around his morning routine.

"Sounded like you had a good time too. We got back at ten and played Halo all night." He paused to spit out the foamy toothpaste. "Apparently, you and Kurt were playing something else."

Blaine made a noise somewhere between a nauseous groan and an embarrassed groan.

"So, you're the, uh … I don't even know what it's called. You take it?" Riley asked awkwardly.

It took Blaine several moments to figure out what Riley meant. He physically started when he did, and then went deadly still behind the shower curtain. Shampoo dripped into his eyes, and only the stinging brought him around again.

"No!" His voice sounded shrill even to his ears. "I mean, we're – we haven't – We're not there yet, Riley." The brothers went silent for too long, and Blaine couldn't resist peeking at the gap between the curtain and tile when he asked, "Why would you assume that?"

Riley frowned in the mirror as he swished the mouthwash around. After he spit, he pressed a hand towel to his lips and then answered. "Nothing. It's, uh, it's cool if you do." But Riley didn't look or sound comfortable with that idea. "I just assumed it was the other way around because Kurt's – "

"What?" Blaine snapped.

"You know. Girly."

In the shower, Blaine blinked at tears that had nothing to do with the soap streaking down his face. He wanted to jump to Kurt's defense, but the pangs in his chest prevented it. Riley hadn't always been the perfect brother, but he'd stood by Blaine from the day he'd come out to his parents. Now he understood the pain Kurt had felt every time Finn had let him down by letting masculine ideals cloud his judgment.

The last day of their stay in St. Louis passed tensely. Grace suspected hangover remedies were in order, and for all her carefree attitude, glared at all four boys over breakfast. Kurt could see something was bothering Blaine, but had no opportunity to speak privately. No one said anything, but Kurt climbed into bed feeling some shadowy thing had undermined their perfect week. He hadn't felt the twisting in his gut this badly since before he'd transferred to Dalton.


	10. Humpty Dumpty's Got Nothing On Us

**Chapter Ten**  
><strong>Humpty Dumpty's Got Nothing On Us<strong>

_Last week of July_

The dark-haired teenager reclined in the lounge chair by the pool and watched the party planner direct caterers, florists, and construction crews through dark-tinted sunglasses. He couldn't keep the sardonic smile off his lips, and his mother caught the expression as she bustled by to double check some detail or other with the party planner.

"Wipe that smug expression off your face, Nicholas!" Anna Duval chided. "Do you know how much work I put into your birthday party? And your sisters and Quinn are even helping too!"

"What?" Nick cried, sitting up straight. "When did Quinn get here?"

He didn't wait for an answer, but leapt up the gently inclining stone walkway glancing left and right for any sign of his girlfriend. Navy party tents had appeared on the Duval's back lawn overnight, and scores of men set up tables and chairs in the wee hours of the morning. Elaborate centerpieces appeared around 8am, and within the hour bags of expensive party favors appeared under each seat. Silk streamers in blue, red, and white – either in homage to Dalton or the American flag – fluttered in the wind over the patios. He supposed it was all very elegant and classic.

All of these decorations had been carefully selected by Anna for the "official" party when Nick's friends would come by with their parents and mingle like the high society boys they were. Anyone and everyone from Dalton and Crawford had been invited, whether Nick knew them or not. Mostly, though, the afternoon party was for the Congressman's associates. Nick would grin and bear their presence on his eighteenth birthday because he had to, but also because the "official" party came with a consolation prize: the unofficial party.

Sneak peeks of the second birthday party had already slipped into place. The DJ booth set up on the far left lawn would blast music loud enough to wake the dead tonight, and the generous expanse of lawn between it and the pool would serve as a dance floor. The multitude of lounge chairs around the pool would occupy half-clothed teenagers in the later hours. Nick knew from experience with his older sisters' landmark birthdays that the fully-stocked open bar would "accidentally" remain once all the adults left after five o'clock, and the bartender would be conspicuously absent.

Nick spotted three figures wending their way through the sea of tables. His oldest sister, Natalie, cradled the seating chart on her forearms and pointed at each place setting. His other sister, Nichole, would then put down the name placard. Both his sisters had his straight black hair and lack of height. Quinn stood head and shoulders over them in a red and white sundress. She had her hands full of name cards and shuffled through them, handing each off to Nichole as she found the name Natalie had read off.

"Hey, you," he said softly, grinning at Quinn. He pressed a chaste kiss to her lips that sent his sisters into fits of fawning giggles. "So I see you've met my sisters. They were supposed to come get me when you got here, not force you to do their work." Nichole stuck her tongue out at him.

"I don't mind," Quinn said. "It's been fun getting to know your sisters."

Nick provided her with an excuse to get out of the blistering sun, but she declined in favor of placing the rest of the seating cards. He tagged along reluctantly, occasionally trying to throw off Natalie's directions by claiming so-and-so was in a feud with what's-her-name or that this-one was sleeping with that-one's husband.

"Go get dressed!" Natalie snapped at last. "The guests will start arriving in less than an hour. Mom hung your outfit on the back of your door."

"Speaking of outfits," Nichole said, turning to Quinn, "you'll need a hat if you're going to be out here all day. I can lend you one of mine that will look amazing with your dress."

After they put down the last of the placards and returned the seating chart to the party planner, Nichole led Quinn up to her room with Natalie following along. Paraphernalia from Dartmouth littered Nichole's room and upset the theme of the décor in the same way Nick's Dalton things did in his room. Natalie smiled fondly at a Dartmouth t-shirt flung over the desk chair; she had graduated in May.

"How about this?"

Nichole held up the most ridiculous hat Quinn had ever seen. Red, black, and white lacy ribbons and feathers formed a high pouf on the white hat. The broad-brimmed monstrosity looked like something worn by English royalty or at the Kentucky derby. She tried to school her features into something that didn't resemble repulsion.

"Something simpler, I think," Natalie laughed.

She walked into Nichole's spacious closet and come out with another option. Quinn still thought it looked hideous, but in a less ostentatious way. The white hat had less of a wide brim adorned with a simple red ribbon bow tied to resemble a flower. She allowed Natalie to put the hat on her and examined her reflection in the mirror. A slow smile spread over her lips.

"I've honestly never worn a hat like this before, but I think I like it," Quinn said.

"You look like a country club regular," Natalie said fondly. "Have you been yet? To the country club?" When the blonde shook her head, Natalie went on. "I'll tell Nick to invite you next time we all go. We could finally play tennis doubles!"

Quinn didn't mention that she didn't know how to play tennis. Gym class with Coach Tanaka had covered the sport, but like everything that man taught, the lessons hadn't been all that instructive. She let Natalie and Nichole tell her all about the country club's amenities and make plans for what they would do together there. She couldn't help but wonder what she had done to earn their immediate approval, other than look the part.

Nick came to "rescue" her after he'd dressed in slate gray slacks and light blue button down. The rescue went south when they encountered Nick's dad on the stairs. Quinn thought Anna Duval seemed like a pleasant enough woman, if slightly harried by the party plans. She had paused to warmly welcome Quinn and say how she looked forward to a time when they could sit down and get to know each other. Benjamin Duval, however, gave Quinn a whole other vibe. He observed her closely, as if cataloging every feature and judging if she was good enough, before offering a tight, half-smile.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Quinn." Something about the way the Congressman said her name put her on edge. "Nick's told us so much about you." Again, something in words sounded predatory to her ears.

"I'm pleased to meet you as well, sir."

The Congressman didn't stay long to chat. He had to change into a better suit for the party and left with a word of criticism for Nick – he needed to wear a tie.

The party guests began arriving at noon and slowly made their way into the backyard to take their seats for the meal. Nick hovered in the front yard, welcoming guests and mingling as he was expected to do. Having Quinn on his arm made it less painful for him. She didn't seem to mind being the topic of conversation (because after introducing her as his girlfriend, they always wanted to know more about her) or repeating herself. Plenty of Dalton and Crawford students arrived, but Nick really only cared to talk to the Warblers, Starlings, and Mathletes. They all knew social etiquette precluded them from talking too long, so broke off their conversations early with promises to talk later – meaning at the second party they really wanted to attend.

The afternoon crept by painfully slowly in a torturous stream of small talk. Nick reminded himself mentally that dealing with these people would appease his father and that the birthday cards piling up on the gift table were probably packed with cash. Untraceable expenditures were a luxury for Nick. Normally, all his purchases and withdraws were logged by credit and bank statements.

At last, the adults began to depart, and the teenagers were free to lose their ties or change into more comfortable clothes stashed in their messenger bags. Gossiping girls spread the word that Kurt and Cameron had set up a veritable salon in Nichole's room for anyone needing to transform their look from country club to party girl. Lounge chairs were abandoned in favor of cooling off in the pool, and red Solo cups replaced the heavy tumblers and wine glasses at the bar. Nick's friends not invited to the "official" party – the rest of New Directions, Nichole and Natalie's friends – started showing up a little after. The party kicked into full swing when the DJ showed up at six o'clock.

**o o o**

When the DJ cranked up "Barbra Streisand," the members of New Directions not occupied elsewhere rushed onto the makeshift dance floor. Rachel tottered into the mass of dancers, jumped around unsteadily, and screamed for Kurt to join her. The countertenor did not appear, so she settled for dancing with Finn.

"How are you all choreographed?" Jeff asked the nearest McKinley student.

Brittany didn't stop dancing as she explained about Rachel wanting a nose job and Kurt's intervention. Her dance moves had become legendary after Sectionals, and Jeff marveled at her ability to dance and talk without sounding breathy or losing the beat. The Warblers crashed like dominos if they tried to dance and sing at the same time.

"Teach me?"

The blonde girl took up the challenge enthusiastically. They didn't have long left on the song, and Brittany seemed determined to get every step right. Instead of slowing down for Jeff, she manhandled him into position. Luckily, he was one of the Warblers' more coordinated members and didn't trip over his own feet. He also didn't mind being bodily maneuvered around the dance floor.

"New Directions is just full of forceful personalities," he said teasingly in her ear. "I didn't really suspect you of being that type, though."

Brittany smiled sweetly while putting her hands on his upper arms and spinning him around. Jeff picked up the next two steps from watching Rachel. He knew better than mirror Finn. Even drunk, Rachel danced better than her boyfriend.

"I just like getting dance moves right," Brittany answered.

She did a shimmy-turn-jump combination that had Jeff's eyes glued to her hips. She noticed and put an extra _oomph_into the next move. The song ended too soon for Jeff's liking, but Brittany continued dancing with him into the next song.

"I thought you liked boys, but you're staring at my ass a lot, and I'm a girl."

Jeff grinned at the sweet girl and nodded. "I like who I like. I don't care if they're a boy or a girl."

"Me too. But I can't like you."

"Why not?" he inquired. "Things didn't work out with Simon, so I'm single again. Unless you have a boyfriend or girlfriend?"

Her brow furrowed for a moment, and he expected her to say that she did have a significant other. Instead, she shook her head so that her ponytail bobbed over both shoulders.

"We're related."

Jeff immediately took a step back. He mentally ran through a list of all his first and second cousins and strained his memory to recall the others that he might not have seen for a while. He didn't remember Brittany from any family functions, and wouldn't have his parents said something about a family member going to McKinley sometime this summer.

"Are you sure, Brittany? Do you know how we're related?"

She nodded. "Mr. Schue showed me a program for the musical when I went to talk to him about the overture choreography yesterday. I saw your name there: Jeff _S_. Sterling. And I knew then that we're family. I'm Brittany _S_. Pierce."

Jeff forgot about the heavy beat thrumming through the speakers. He stopped dead on the dance floor, his head cocked and lips twitching. Brittany stared up at him, innocence shining from her eyes. He could flirt with anyone he wanted later, but he was sure he'd never make another friend quite like Brittany. Without warning, he wrapped her in a tight hug, his shoulders shaking in silent laughter.

"It's okay, cousin," Brittany said, squeezing him back and placing a kiss on his cheek. "Now that we've found each other, we'll be family forever."

Too far away to hear the exchange over the blaring music, Santana watched the scene play out with a growing pit in her stomach. She felt hot tears pricking the back of her eyes, and she turned and fled the party before she saw any more than the kiss.

**o o o**

Artie enjoyed the Duval's sloping walkways a lot. With two Solo cups in hands raised over his head – one his, one Puck's – he cried out a wordless _whoop_as Puck released the handles of his wheelchair and sent him flying towards the crowd around the pool. Behind him, he heard Puck cheering wildly and Lauren awarding him a 9.4.

Truly, Artie didn't remember imbibing enough alcohol to make careening towards a swimming pool that much fun, but apparently he had. The walkway leveled out, and Richard stopped Artie's chair before he toppled into the water.

"I congratulate you on your muscles, my friend," Artie said, patting the beatboxer's elbow.

The cute brunette with a pixie cut giggled and wheeled Artie to safety. A couple of college guys trying to impress Nichole looked like they wanted to use the slope as a skateboard ramp. Artie ditched the cups on a low garden wall and took over propelling himself around the pool. He rolled to a stop beside a pretty redhead in a tiny navy bikini.

"Heeey, girl. How's about you get up on this?" Artie pointed two-handed to his lap.

"I don't know if you can handle all this," the girl giggled. She tottered tipsily before deciding she needed to sit down and landed in Artie's lap. The force of her fall would have hurt if he could feel his legs. "I might be a little buzzed."

"Hells yeah! But I lost my drinks."

"Then let's go get some more."

The girl wrapped her arms around Artie's neck, and he wheeled them through the crowds to the patio where bottles of liquor had spread out from the open bar. The redhead had her heart set on body shots, and Artie was only too happy to oblige. He was licking a line of salt off her breastbone when Wes stormed up to them.

"Seriously, Ros?" he demanded. "You're going to do this here, in front of all our friends, three weeks before I move to New York?"

The redhead pushed herself up from Artie's lap clumsily, leaving him with the sharp taste of salt on his tongue and no shot to wash it away. She managed to stand upright, but didn't strike a very imposing figure in her bathing suit.

"Seriously, Wes?" she parroted, although slurred. "You're leaving for New York in three weeks; I'm going to California. What did you think I was going to do? Waste my freshman year in SoCal pining over my boyfriend?"

Artie wisely began rolling backwards to get away from the lover's spat that was quickly escalating. Wes's cheeks colored, and his expression twisted up into a mixture of fury and pain.

"You said we could make this work; that a semester is only sixteen weeks, and we could look forward to seeing each other over winter break. But that was just words, wasn't it? You were never planning on even trying because you're incapable of fidelity."

"What are you saying, Wesley?" Ros demanded hotly.

David had made his way over and gently laid a hand on his best friend's shoulder. "Don't say it, Wes." Even if it was true – and David thought it was – calling his girlfriend a slut in front of all their friends would blow up in Wes's face.

"What I'm saying, Ros, is that I've had enough of watching you flirt with other guys when I'm around and doing God knows what else when I'm not. I'm saying that we're through for good this time. Have a great time in California. And, by the way, you won't be in Southern California because you're going to _Stanford, _not that I understand how you got in with that dismal level of intelligence."

David dragged Wes away before the insults could go any further. Some of the watching Warblers who hadn't liked Ros much or the way she ran the Starlings laughed at her expense, but David knew his best friend was going to crumble into a weepy sop in a few minutes.

**o o o**

The party in the backyard faded to distant noise for the two boys wrapped up in their own moment inside the guest room. Moans and pleasant hums from a musical tenor voice drifted through the closed door, until suddenly they stopped, replaced again by the pounding music outside.

Kurt sat back on his heels, watching in stunned silence as Blaine scrambled away from him and yanked his pants back up around his waist. His boyfriend looked wide-eyed and terrified, but his body told another story.

"Blaine, wh – "

"You can't just do that, Kurt!"

The pain of rejection replaced Kurt's confusion. He felt vulnerable on his knees, so he stood up a little shakily and wiped his spit-covered fingers on his pant leg. Right now, he couldn't even remember the name of the designer whose pants he'd just so mortally offended with the gesture. He blinked to fight off the tears and clenched his jaw to keep his lips from trembling and betraying him.

"You don't have to freak out, Blaine. We don't have to do it, but I thought you wanted me to."

The statement caused Blaine to blanch and recoil more. He stood across the room, pressed against the door. His fingers twitched toward the doorknob, and Kurt had to fight back the sob growing in his throat. He'd pushed too fast again, and this time it was too much for Blaine.

"Why? Why would I want you to do that? I don't want that from you," Blaine said shrilly, and he sounded even more panicked than when Kurt first pressed a finger to his entrance.

Kurt looked away, unable to keep the tears at bay now. They slipped from his eyes despite his best efforts to blink them away. He didn't understand what had happened. Blaine had _told_him he wanted to bottom, so Kurt had taken the first step to make that happen. And now Blaine had completely changed his tune. Kurt waited for his boyfriend to realize he'd made him cry and apologize. That was how Blaine worked, it was what Kurt had come to expect.

"O-Okay. Can we talk – "

"No! I – I can't do this, Kurt."

Blaine turned and fled the room. The door bounced off the wall with a thud drowned out by the loud music, and Kurt collapsed onto the bed, crying harder than he had since prom night.

Blaine bolted down the stairs, heedless of David lugging a dazed Wes upstairs or Natalie screaming at her fiancée about groping one of Nichole's friends. He needed air, and he needed to be far, far away from Kurt right now. Kurt and his roaming fingers that had felt so, so good _there_. He physically shook his head, as if that could wipe away the memory.

Less party guests claimed the front patio of the manor as their spot, but too many eyes watched Blaine as he barged through the front door. He wouldn't find peace here, so he kept striding forward until he found himself past the driveway and onto the street.

He stopped abruptly in front of the Duval's mailbox. Another person looking equally distressed stared back at him. Without a spoken word, Blaine and Santana fell into step with each other and marched towards Blaine's Mustang. She fished the keys out of his pocket without asking permission, and he climbed into the passenger seat without caring.

They drove around for two hours with the warm night air blowing through the open windows, silently ignoring the other's tears and speaking not a word to each other. They ended up back at Blaine's house because they had nowhere else in Westerville to go.

"I'm not talking about it," Santana declared.

"Neither am I."

"Good."

"Do you want to stay here tonight?"

They made their way into the house and up to Blaine's room, where they laid down on his bed to talk about anything and everything but the party and fell asleep holding hands.

**o o o**

Sam sat on the cold stone bench hidden in an alcove within the Duval's sprawling garden. He worried the red Solo cup between his teeth as his eyes darted around the expensive home and opulent garden. A permanent frown had formed on his lips since he'd arrived at the party three hours ago with Mercedes. He wanted to leave now, but last he saw his girlfriend, she was giggling in a corner with Tina and Cameron. They were having a great time. None of them had requested off work to come here tonight and have wealth shoved in their faces, none of their families needed the $48 plus tips he wouldn't be making tonight.

Footsteps approached from the direction of the house, and Sam tried to melt back into the deepest shadows. The Moon betrayed him, though, lighting the path just enough for the approaching guest to see him. Mercedes. He cursed inwardly. She was the last person he wanted to see right now. She got so happy when she was drunk.

"Sam," she giggled. "Found you! You're it!"

"We're not playing a game," he sighed.

She lowered herself onto the bench clumsily, and he reached out to steady her. For a few moments, it contended her to sip at her drink in silence, but too soon she wanted to talk.

"Why are you out here all alone? Mike and Tina and Cameron and me, we're going to play Capture the Warbler and we need your help to kidnap Richard. He's too big for all of us to get."

Sam sighed. He was not in the mood for this. He stood up to walk away, but Mercedes didn't get the hint. She trailed after him, giggling about how Capture the Warbler had been invented during a blizzard to keep the Dalton boys entertained. Hearing about the school only reminded Sam of what else he had lost. Not so long ago, he had worn a uniform similar to Dalton's and felt the camaraderie of being a prep school boy.

"Stop, Mercedes," he ordered, more harshly than he'd intended. "I – I can't do this right now. Just go back to the party and have fun, okay?"

She finally noticed something had gone amiss in their conversation and stopped chattering happily about Warblers and Dalton. With a surprisingly steady hand, Mercedes guided him onto a low garden wall.

"I want to talk to you, Sam, but I'm a little tipsy right now," she admitted. "Wait here. I'm gonna go get me some food."

Sam sighed again, this time irritated. He crossed his arms and scuffed his tennis shoes on the flagstones, expecting Mercedes would be gone for quite some time trying to convince someone to make her tater tots. Instead, she returned fairly quickly with four slices of pizza. Two, she pushed into his hands and the others she polished off quickly along with a bottle of water.

"Is that enough to counteract whatever you drank?" he asked, a little snappish. "Not entirely, but enough. What's going on, Sam? Why aren't you partying with everyone else and having a good time? It's not like we get to have this kind of party every day in Lima."

"No, but I went to these kinds of parties every weekend in Tennessee," he admitted. "I went to an all-boys private school, Mercedes. I was the equivalent of a Dalton boy. I had all this, all the time." He gestured to the manor house and surrounding lawn. "I can't party and have fun because all of this just reminds me of everything I don't have anymore."

Mercedes listened quietly, but she didn't know what she could say to that. She felt like they'd had this conversation a hundred times this summer. She'd tried to reason with Sam, but he couldn't get past what his family had lost. Only now did she understand how much they had lost and how quickly it had disappeared.

"Sam, I – I don't know what to say. Do you want to leave?"

He wanted to say yes and walk away with her right now, but he didn't. Sam knew other people in this world had much less and that he shouldn't wallow. Staying at the party and making himself feel miserable felt like some kind of twisted form of penance for his self-pity.

"Just … go have fun, Mercedes. Text me when you're ready to leave."

"I'm ready now."

Sam didn't answer her. He walked away without looking back and disappeared in a group of Starlings making their way back up to the house. Mercedes looked for Sam in the garden, but couldn't find him. The dancing lawn and patio also turned up empty. In a last-ditch effort to find her boyfriend and get the hell out of this place, she went searching through the house.

Most of the doors on the upper floors were closed, and she knew better than to knock or barge in. If Sam had barricaded himself in one of these rooms, she'd never find him. But just in case, she had to look. Up on the third floor, she came to one door only partially closed. Hoping it was Sam, she peered inside. A slight figure sat on the bed, arms wrapped around torso, crying and shaking silently. But it wasn't Sam.

"Kurt?" Mercedes asked in a small voice.

Her best friend looked up sharply and tried to dash away the tears she had already seen. A long time had passed since she and Kurt had had a heart-to-heart. Sometimes, she felt like Kurt had moved on and Rachel had replaced her in his life. That didn't matter right now, because he needed a shoulder to cry on. However sad she felt right now, Kurt looked broken. She eased onto the bed and drew him into her arms. For a few minutes, he allowed himself to let out the hurt.

"What happened, Kurt?"

He sat up then and wiped the moisture off his cheeks. He had stopped crying, but his red-rimmed and glassy eyes filled with anguish.

"I – I think Blaine just broke up with me."

Mercedes sucked in a breath, and then covered her mouth with one hand. Her own troubles disappeared entirely. "Oh, Kurt. Baby, I am so sorry. What happened?"

He refused to answer for several minutes until Mercedes prodded him enough. "We were up here … you know." She thought she did, so she nodded for him to continue. "He's been a little reluctant, but he said he wanted me to do something when we were in St. Louis, so I tried to do it tonight, and he completely flipped out."

She shifted around a little uncomfortably. She and Kurt had never talked about sex beyond the simple fact that they both like boys. With her own conflicted feelings about Sam still unresolved, she wasn't the best person to talk to about this, but she wanted to help.

"Maybe you should give him some time to calm down, and then talk to him. Blaine is crazy in love with you, Kurt. Anyone with eyes can see that. I'm sure you can work this out. Haven't you ever wanted something sexual that scared you a little because you thought that you would never be _that_kind of person?"

Kurt eyed her knowingly. "I – Yes, I have."

Kurt promised he would take Mercedes's advice before texting Rachel and Finn to tell them he was leaving. If they wanted a ride with their designated driver, it was time for them to leave as well. He was grateful they were too tipsy to notice his distress, but could have lived without seeing the make-out session in the rearview mirror. It only make him that much more weepy and scared that he'd lost Blaine.

**o o o**

Two figures sat on a wall winding through the Duval's garden, sipping from red Solo cups and leaning into each other. Tina hummed happily as Mike twined his fingers through her long hair. They had been together a year and two days, not that anyone other than themselves had acknowledged their anniversary.

"Are we boring?" Mike inquired. "Everyone else is fighting or hooking up, and we're sitting here cuddling."

Tina sighed contentedly. "Stable doesn't have to be boring. And as long as you've got those abs, I'm not bored."

The boy chuckled genially, relishing in the pleasant buzz from the alcohol. "Our friends are nuts."


	11. Dead Singers Society

**Chapter Eleven**  
><strong>Dead Singers Society<strong>

_First week of August_

Mr. Schuester burst into the auditorium on Monday morning with more gusto than the opening notes of a Warbler's number. The students in New Directions knew him well enough to guess they had an assignment coming their way, but the Warblers perked up, thinking something good was about to happen.

"I've been thinking this weekend about our progress on the musical, and I'm really happy with how far we've come. But I think we could do better. It hit me on Saturday what we need: action. The characters in every great story are active participants in their own lives. They don't wait for something to happen to them; they go out and make it happen."

The teacher paused to gauge if the students understood. When he didn't see any glassy eyes or confused expressions – minus Brittany's – he went on.

"So this week, we're doing an acting exercise. I want you all to be yourselves, but pretend you're a character in a story. Make a change, bring up a touchy subject with a parent, get to know someone who interests you, rekindle an old friendship. Whatever you do: be bold!"

The interest in the group varied based on the individual's personality. The more forthright students shrugged, since this sounded like their daily lives. The ones more prone to avoiding conflict or new experiences, however, glanced around uncomfortably.

Whatever the week's assignment produced, Will felt certain it would be a sight to behold.

**o o o **

Mercedes and Sam sat on the couch in the Jones's living room watching a movie and trying to ignore Kellan's blaring video game filtering from the upstairs bedroom. Mercedes's parents had left an hour ago for their weekly date night, and she'd hoped for some alone time with Sam. Instead, her idiot brother had invited his friends over for game night.

"I'm gonna go kill him," she said, starting to get up off the couch, but Sam pulled her back down and cuddled close to her. "Sam, we can't even hear what the characters are saying!"

"I'll narrate. I know the whole movie by heart." Sam cleared his throat and began talking in a mumbling, fake British accent. _"If by my life or death I can protect you, I will. You have my sword._"

She shook her head sadly. "I don't even believe this is happening."

Sam dutifully quoted the movie until Mercedes made him stop when the birds flew around the Fellowship of the Ring and he started squawking to imitate them. She distracted him from the movie by leaning up for a kiss. To her surprise – and offense – he pulled away and stared at the television for a moment before hitting the power button on the remote control.

"Is it sacrilege to make out during _Lord of the Rings_?" she teased.

"Are you ready to talk about what happened? Because I am."

Mercedes went still, and the teasing smile slipped off her lips. She had been thinking a lot about their heated session in the girl's bathroom and everything Coach Sylvester had said. She even knew what she wanted to say to Sam, but she hadn't brought it up because she knew it was going to ruin what they had.

"Okay," she said quietly. She took a breath to steel herself to say what had to be said. "Sam, I really like you, and I think we're great together. But I'm not okay with where our relationship is headed."

"We don't have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable," he rushed to say. "I really want to, but if you're not ready …."

"It's not that, Sam. I am ready to go further with you physically. Not all the way, but I'm ready for something more. But not like this. Not when we're keeping our relationship a secret. There's a name for girls who do that, and I'm not one of them."

She watched worriedly as Sam ducked his head and ran both hands through his blond hair. Mercedes knew his answer by his body language, and she blinked back the tears building in her eyes.

"Mercedes, you know why I can't. When we talked about this after we first started dating, you wanted to keep it quiet too."

"That was two months ago, Sam. I've gotten over my insecurities. I want to tell Quinn that I have my first real boyfriend, and there are so many things I've wanted to talk to Kurt about. I understand your feelings, Sam, but it's starting to feel a little like you're ashamed of being with me."

"No!" he exclaimed, bodily turning to Mercedes and taking her hands. "No, I'm not, Mercedes. I'm blown away by you, and I can't believe you would want to be with a geeky guy like me. I love you, Mercedes. You mean so much to me, and I'd do anything for you."

She inhaled sharply and unshed tears blurred her vision. "I'm ready to tell the world that I love you too. That's what I want you to do for me. Let's tell our friends."

Through her tears, Mercedes saw the indecision on Sam's face as he shook his head no. The first tears escaped down her cheeks then, and she took a shuddering breath before saying what needed to be said.

"Then we can't be together anymore."

Twenty minutes later, Burt opened the door to find a sobbing Mercedes on his doorstep. Gay sons Burt Hummel could handle, but crying girls scared the life out of him. He ushered her inside tensely and called Kurt down from his room.

"Merce – Oh my God, Mercedes! What's wrong?" Kurt's face flashed from excitement to concern in a matter of seconds.

"I'm s-s-s-so s-s-sorry, Kurt!"

The girl wailed as he escorted her up the stairs to his room. He rubbed her back and made soft noises until she calmed down enough to talk. She cried into his shoulder for half an hour before Kurt could get any coherent explanation from her.

"Start from the beginning, Mercedes," he prompted her.

"Kurt, I am so sorry. I – I've been lying to you about something all summer."

She accepted a few tissues from the proffered box and mopped up her face before starting on the story. It started at prom – a night she brought up only reluctantly – and she and Sam getting together shortly afterwards. She talked about how they kept it a secret during Nationals, and Kurt grinned dopily when she brought up running into him and Blaine in the coffee shop.

She faltered when she tried to explain she hadn't outright lied to him when he suspected she and Sam were together. He had given her an out when he said he wanted to be the first to know – and he was, save Jeff who guessed on his own.

"But I know it's the same as lying, Kurt. I betrayed your trust, and I can't apologize enough for that. We've drifted apart since everything with your dad and you meeting Blaine." She realized what she'd implied a moment later. "Oh, no. I didn't mean – "

"I know, Mercedes. But I want you to know that it's not Blaine that came between us. It was Karofsky and the bullying. Blaine understood that situation like no one else could."

She had never thought of it in that regard before. It had always felt like Blaine had taken Kurt away from her. He didn't demand she accept that right now, though.

"I forgive you for keeping your relationship from me," Kurt said gently. "We all have secrets we need to keep for our own reasons. The truth comes out eventually, but some things aren't ours to tell or have to be said in our own time. No one knows that better than I do."

**o o o**

Blaine let himself into the now familiar bedroom while Santana collected snacks and soda from the kitchen. He kicked off his shoes and settled onto her supremely comfortable bed after pulling up Sufjan Stevens on her iPod. Santana hated it when he scrolled through her playlists because of all her guilty pleasure music, but she didn't say anything when she came in and kicked the door closed. She sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed.

"You sure you don't want to ditch me for Hummel?" she asked, for the fifth time in ten minutes. Blaine thought he knew what that meant, but he'd let her get there in her own time.

"I told you, Santana. He's working in his dad's shop today. As much as I'd love to watch my boyfriend get dirty, I think his dad might take exception to my bon – er, it."

The girl snickered and threw a packet of Red Vines at him. She hated the candy, so he found it endearing that she had a supply waiting for him when he came over. They had progressed far enough in their friendship that she didn't feel the need to make an excuse for it, and he didn't feel the need to tease her about it.

"And you don't want to spend time with your Warbler friends?"

"I drove to Lima to see you, Santana."

She went quiet for several minutes and focused on finishing her ho-ho. After she licked the chocolate off her fingers and took a long drink of bottled water, she eyed him steadily. He just munched on his Red Vine and waited for her to speak.

"I'm doing my acting exercise assignment with you," she stated.

"I came here to do mine with you."

Blaine had come to the realization somewhere in the middle of the week that Mr. Schuester was right. He needed to talk about the things that had been bothering him all summer before he ruined what he had with Kurt. But he couldn't talk to his boyfriend yet, not until he had worked out his own feelings first. He had thought he had no one to turn to, just like he had at the beginning of the summer, but then he thought about Santana. They were friends now, whether she admitted it out loud or not, and he felt comfortable around her despite her brazen, judgmental attitude. He'd made the decision just this morning on the drive over.

"I can go first, if you want," he said.

She seemed relieved to have an excuse to delay her own revelation (which probably wouldn't be a shock to Blaine anyway). He set aside his candy and sat up at the head of the bed so they faced each other. Now that it came to saying it aloud, he felt more awkward than he'd expected.

"Kurt and I have been taking our relationship further, physically, this summer. And it's been kind of really confusing for me at times. Being intimate with Kurt is incredible, but there are some things about myself I'm not entirely comfortable with."

Santana thought for a moment, trying to infer what he meant. "Are you saying you think you're a woman?"

"No," he chuckled.

"Then you're gonna have to be more explicit because I don't follow you right now."

Blaine took a breath. "Okay. This conversation doesn't leave this room." She held out her pinky, and they pinky-swore like he used to do back in elementary school. The childish promise eased the tension out of the room, and he continued a little easier. "I'm talking about sex and the fact that I think I'd really enjoy being in a position I never thought I would."

Comprehension dawned on her face. "Anal is awesome," she said bluntly. "You are going to love it. The first time is hella uncomfortable, and there's always a little burn other times, but it goes away pretty quickly."

Blaine gaped stupidly for several moments. "O-Okay. Yeah, I figured it was good. But the pain is not actually the problem. I hadn't even really thought of that."

"Then what is it?"

He found himself suddenly unable to say anything, and he realized how stupid this was to talk about with a girl. Any way he tried to explain what bothered him would come out sounding misogynistic. He tried several times before he found the words.

"Being the bottom, it's not exactly the most masculine position." Santana's eyebrows arched. "I'm sorry, Santana. I know what that implies, and I don't mean it that way. I respect women, and I – "

"Relax, Blaine. I'm not going to cut you with my NOW membership card, okay? I get it. It's part of our sexist culture that tells us getting fucked is a woman's role. But I've been with enough guys to know that the power goes both ways. I don't exactly have a stereotypically feminine personality. Do you really think I'm any different in bed? Hell no. Those boys bowed down and worshiped me or they got kicked out of my bed."

"There's a double standard, Santana. Even people who accept that I'm gay without any reservations think I'm less masculine because I want to bottom."

She shook her head. "Blaine, if you really cared what other people thought of you, you wouldn't have come out at fourteen. You would have been a closet case your whole life, or at least until you left Ohio."

He burrowed his brows, weighing her words and the compliment hidden there. She was right, of course. The problem had never been what other people thought of him; it was what he thought of himself. Riley's reaction hadn't started him doubting his masculinity; it had been an excuse to avoid sorting out his own feelings.

"If you only pretended not to care what other people think," Santana went on, "you wouldn't have come out at all because of the fear of discrimination."

"I might have been brave enough, even then," he answered, sensing they had moved beyond his confession and onto hers. "Maybe I couldn't have told everyone at fourteen, but maybe I could have told my friends in a couple years."

"Is that your way of saying you already know I'm a lesbian?" He nodded, and she sneered at him. "So I guess I know why you've put up with me all summer."

"Well, we always knew why you decided to befriend me, so now I guess we're even." The snippy retort was out of character for him, but it got through to Santana. "But for the record, I don't think we're friends because of our sexuality. I think we would be friends even if we were both straight. Actually, you're so much like Kurt I think we'd be more than friends."

"Me too," Santana grinned. "You would totally be my Brittany."

"But, seriously, Santana. I don't understand why you're afraid. I watched you stand up to a homophobic football player who has six inches and seventy pounds on you. It wasn't just something you had to do either. You really enjoyed it."

"Yeah. But what about that sweet old grandma at the grocery store who tisks and turns away? She's the one I'm terrified of."

Blaine sighed. "I'll be honest. I don't have all the answers. The last time I tried to play the mentor role, it backfired and Kurt got hurt. All I can say is that you have friends who accept you and love you for exactly who you are. Wherever we end up, whatever we go through, I'll be there for you, Santana. I'd put razor blades in my hair for you too."

Santana turned away sharply with moisture slipping from her eyes. "I'm only crying because you are so fucking sappy," she declared. She rose from the bed, and Blaine thought she would leave to dry her eyes in private. Instead, she joined him at the head of the bed and buried her face in his shoulder. He wrapped her in an embrace and leaned his cheek against the top of her head.

**o o o**

To call the ride back from the American Heart Association benefit tense would be an understatement. Quinn spent most of the ride alternating between resolutely staring at the hands folded in her lap and smoothing imaginary wrinkles out of her pink dress. Nick's entire family rode in the same limousine. While Anna, Natalie, Nichole, and Nichole's boyfriend Elijah were all perfectly pleasant, Quinn couldn't shake feeling like the prized buck every time Congressman Duval directed a question at her. Nick had picked up on her discomfort and redirected attention to Elijah, who had just been accepted to Harvard Law School.

All night had been the same. Over dinner, anytime a new family acquaintance came over to the table, the Congressman introduced Quinn like he might present a trophy. He said nothing outwardly, but she sensed he wanted something from her. She couldn't imagine what, though. She knew how to use Google and had looked up his political agenda online. There was not a chance any Fabray had every voted for him, and her mom had actually looked green around the gills when Quinn finally told her about Nick's father.

"Let's go someplace quieter," Nick whispered when they arrived back at the Duval manor.

Quinn agreed eagerly and followed him through the house and into the backyard that only last week had been full of partying teenagers. It had been returned to pristine condition since then. They sat on a wooden swing suspended from ivy-covered beams in the garden, and Quinn kicked off her shoes. Nick pulled her feet onto his lap so she sat sideways and started massaging her feet.

"Someone has been well-trained," she laughed.

"Two older sisters, a mother, and a mostly absent father, remember? I'm sorry about him, by the way. I know it's not any consolation, but you're not the only one he's like that with. He practically salivates all over Kurt and Blaine, and he's been bothering me from the day I joined the Warblers to become best friends with David, Wes, and Luke."

Quinn sucked in a breath. So she had the measure of the man correctly. He used people for his own ends, and he had something in mind for Quinn. She knew she looked a certain part, and that might promote an image of family values, except what did Ohio voters care about a seventeen-year-old high school senior?

A sickening suspicion had formed in the back of her mind over dinner, and it resurfaced now with a vengeance. Taking a shuddering breath, she decided it was time to complete Mr. Schuester's weekly assignment before someone else did it for her. She swung her legs off Nick's lap and sat up straight.

"Nick, there's something I need to tell you about myself. I know I should have said something before, but I felt like I had a fresh start with you. That's all I've wanted all last year, and I never got it. Can you understand that?"

"Better than most, Quinn."

So she started her story from the very beginning. She explained about the kind of family she grew up in and the kind of things she had been raised to believe. She talked about the cosmetic surgery and transferring to McKinley, about becoming a Cheerio and why she joined glee club.

When it came to talking about her pregnancy, she needed a moment to collect herself before she admitted to getting drunk on wine coolers and cheating on Finn with his best friend. She talked about her parents' reactions and how isolated she had felt her entire sophomore year. She skipped the details about Beth's adoption, simply saying that the woman who adopted her would be an excellent mother.

She skimmed on the details of the past year, saying only that her parents had gotten a divorce and she lived with just her mom now. He didn't need to know about her failed attempt to regain her popularity, that she cheated on Sam with Finn, or any of the other less than impressive things she had done and said junior year.

All of this she said without looking directly at him, and she could see from the corner of her eye that he stared at the stone path at their feet. With everything out in the open, she turned to him and waited for a reaction.

"Do you see your dad often?"

The question threw Quinn. After everything she had said, that was what he wanted to know? She stammered out an answer, an affirmative.

"That's very forgiving of you. I spend most of my time coming up with excuses to avoid my father so I don't have to think about forgiving him for what he's done to me."

She didn't know what to say to that. She wanted to know his thoughts about her past, but she felt afraid to ask him directly. Not all of her boyfriends had stood by her through the tough times, and she enjoyed spending time with Nick more than Finn or Puck or Sam. He challenged her in all the right ways, and she felt like she belonged somewhere for the first time in months.

"I'm glad you trust me enough to tell me all that, Quinn," Nick said finally. "I have a confession of my own to make. I already knew about the baby, and I suspected about the plastic surgery."

"What? Who told you?"

Nick grimaced. "My dad is a U.S. Congressman, and I'm a political asset to him. No one is allowed near me without being vetted."

"You mean …. He had me investigated? He has a file on me?"

"I'm so sorry, Quinn," he said, his beautiful voice laced with distress. "If there was any way I could have stopped him from doing it, I would have. But there's no getting around the vetting process. He has files on all of my close friends. Please, don't tell them that. I know how absolutely creepy that is."

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "How long have you known all this?"

Nick took a deep breath. "Beginning of July."

"Oh my God."

"I wanted to give you time to get to know me better, to trust me enough to tell me yourself. None of it changes the way I feel about you. I have something of a history myself that I'll tell you all about if you want to hear it. But if this changes how you feel about me, I'll understand."

Quinn heard an untold story in his voice. She wouldn't be the first person to bolt after finding out about the Congressman's creepy habit. She took a breath and tried to slow her thoughts. The truth coming out to the whole family would have happened eventually. What mattered wasn't how Nick found out, but that he knew without judging her.

"What your father does has no effect on the way I feel about you. I care about who _you_ are and what _you_do now."

"Maybe not now, but one day he'll try to use you, Quinn. When it's convenient, he'll pressure you into talking about teen pregnancy or adoption or safe sex or _something_. He'll turn your personal life into a media spectacle."

"That might not be such a bad thing. The best people I know use their personal experiences as a teaching opportunity. I'd like to do it on my own terms when I'm ready."

"I'm not sure you know what you're getting into here, Quinn, but I don't have the heart to try and talk you out of it anymore. I know it's selfish, but I want to be with you."

Quinn answered him with a passionate kiss. When he licked at her bottom him, she opened to allow him access, and his tongue explored her mouth. She tasted of bubbly and the cherry dessert and something distinctly Quinn. Nick's hands tangled in her soft hair and grabbed at her waist to pull her closer. She obliged, but pulled away from his mouth to trace his jaw with pecks while she teased the shell of his ear with one finger the way he loved. When he couldn't stand to be without her lips on his anymore, he gently directed her neck to tilt back.

"I love you, Quinn," he breathed, with his lips only centimeters from hers and their foreheads pressed together.

"I love you too."

**o o o**

Kurt had taken Mercedes's advice and called Blaine the morning after the party. His stomach had dropped when Santana answered the phone, but he'd spoken to Blaine and apologized for pushing _again_. Blaine had sorrowfully apologized for storming out, and that was when Kurt dared to ask if they were still boyfriends. He would never forget Blaine's anguished reply: _"Oh, God. I knew I'd screw up this up eventually" _nor his fervent desire to prove they were perfect for each other.

They had spent the last week attached at the hip, cooing "I love you" and endearments at every opportunity, but avoiding anything sexual for fear it would trigger another fight. Kurt knew this was the conversation he should have to fulfill his assignment for Mr. Schue, but he couldn't. He couldn't risk scaring Blaine again. Their history had shown that Blaine would come around in his own time, if Kurt could just keep his impatience in check.

He resolved to ignore the assignment all week. After all, he had initiated the phone call Sunday morning, which technically was "this week."

Friday night dinner at the Hudson-Hummel house took place without Rachel for the first time all summer. She was in Akron with her dads visiting her aunt and infant niece. Blaine drove over from Westerville just for dinner after a Warblers rehearsal, which caused Carole to sigh girlishly and Kurt to blush fiercely.

For all the gesture signified, however, Blaine kept strangely silent during the meal. He seemed deflated and not at all his usual charming self. Kurt tried to get his boyfriend's attention by rubbing his thumb over Blaine's palm under the table, but that only made the tenor hitch on a smile that fell the moment Kurt looked away. It was Burt who finally pointed out the elephant in the room.

"What's up with you today, kid? Did you have another fight with your dad? Because you know you can talk to us about it."

Kurt was torn between beaming at his father and worrying over his boyfriend. Blaine laid down his fork while shaking his head.

"No, it wasn't anything like that. It's the Warblers."

"I didn't think your glee club had any of the drama that Kurt's does."

Blaine shook his head at Burt's words. "I didn't either, but today the Council told me I'm not around enough. I'm missing meetings where important decisions are made, and that's not acceptable for the Head Warbler Elect."

Kurt's brow furrowed deeply. "They think you spend too much time here, don't they?" He tossed down his fork in disgust. "And I thought they were our friends. That they accepted us. So much for equality."

"Kurt – "

"No, Blaine. No one complained when Wes rescheduled a whole week's worth of rehearsals so he could see Ros perform at the community playhouse in Dayton or when Thad skipped rehearsal the week before Regionals to see his girlfriend visiting from Michigan. But when it's two guys – "

"Kurt, it has nothing to do with us being gay. And I can't believe you would accuse our friends – the friends who sang to you and showed you physical affection in the McKinley courtyard – of homophobia."

The taller boy pursed his lips. "You're right. That wasn't fair. I'm just upset."

"I love that you're upset for me, but Nick has a – "

"Nick!" Finn yelled, joining the conversation for the first time. His fork clattered to his plate. "I thought you said it was the Warbler Council that told you that."

"Yes, but Nick brought it up in a meeting this week when I was noticeably absent. Thad seconded the motion, and it was called to a vote. To be fair, Nick did try to warn me a couple weeks ago."

"Dude, can't you see what's happening here?" Finn demanded. He pushed away his plate of unfinished chicken parmesan. "It's not that you're not around or whatever. It's Nick! That guy is totally jealous of you, and he's trying to mess things up for you."

Burt and Carole looked to Kurt and Blaine for their reactions to that statement. Both boys blinked dumbly at Finn for a beat, and then looked at each other with mirrored confusion. Nick could be a little manipulative, but he was a politician's son. It was generally agreed he'd turned out remarkably humble and honest for growing up in that circle.

"That's not really Nick's style," Blaine said cautiously. "We've been friends for three years, Finn. I don't think he'd try to sabotage me like that."

"Yeah, and I didn't think my best friend would get my girlfriend pregnant and then lie to me about it. But he did. You're a good guy, Blaine, and that's why you think no one would do that to you. But Nick is doing it because he's jealous, and he wants everything that you have."

Kurt and Blaine continued to wear matching skeptical expressions, but Finn wasn't that easily deterred. He took a steadying breath before plowing on.

"Obviously, he's going after your spot on the Warbler Council. And he's been dropping hints for several weeks about one of the leads not deserving their role." The other teenagers exchanged uncomfortable glances. "And – look, it's not easy to say this, but …" Finn huffed. "He wants Kurt, too."

Burt jerked, as if to stand up and storm out and go teach this Nick a lesson, but Carole put a hand on his forearm. Blaine and Kurt's incredulity had melted away into amusement.

"Finn, Nick isn't gay," Kurt said patiently. "He's dating Quinn."

"But you're very sweet to care about us," Blaine added.

The sudden good humor around the table only made Finn more agitated. "I've been watching him. He's all over you, Kurt, and going on and on about your voice and your acting. Not that you're not good, because you are. Like really, really good. But no straight guy does that. He, like, _fawns_ over you or something."

Blaine shifted uncomfortably and looked to Kurt. His boyfriend hadn't mentioned any of this before, and he didn't like hearing about it in front of Kurt's whole family. But his boyfriend was shaking his head slightly at Finn.

"The boys at Dalton aren't like the ones at McKinley," Kurt said kindly.

"Dude, you are not listening to me!" Finn said, and he sounded genuinely angry now. He stood up from his chair and it toppled over. "I saw a freaking text message he sent to Jeff. He said something like you're the only guy he's gay for."

The atmosphere in the kitchen turned frigid. Kurt turned pale, and his eyes widened in alarm when Blaine abruptly dropped his hand. He turned to his boyfriend, jaw working silently, and saw Blaine's jaw firmly set and anger flashing in his hazel eyes. He stood stiffly, the paper napkin falling from his lap onto the floor.

"Blaine!" Kurt called, as the other boy made to leave the kitchen.

"I need – I just need a minute, Kurt."

The front door snapped shut, and Kurt was left alone in the kitchen with his family. Finn suddenly looked sheepish at causing this particular scene in front of Burt and Carole. He shifted his weight around from foot-to-foot. Kurt felt stinging at the back of his eyes, and as much as he blinked to hold them in, the tears leaked out and slid down his cheeks. Blaine thought he was the one who would screw up their relationship, but it was Kurt again and again.

"Kurt," his dad said. "This Nick kid. Did you –?"

"No, dad! I would never do that to Blaine!"

"I know you wouldn't."

Kurt all but flew out of his chair and attached his arms around Blaine, who had returned looking much calmer. Burt, Carole, and Finn took this as their cue to leave and sidled out of the kitchen with the food still on the table.

"I trust you, Kurt. I love you. But Nick – Nick is one of my best friends. That he would do this …. Is this how Rachel and I made you feel? God, Kurt, I'm so sorry."

"Not quite. Rachel wasn't exactly a friend then, and you weren't mine at all, so …."

Blaine tried to smile, but failed. "You're just trying to make me feel better about that whole mess."

"Yes, because I'm trying to be a good boyfriend."

"You're succeeding at that. But what am I going to do about Nick?"

Finn appeared in their line of sight again. Standing wrapped up in each other in the kitchen hadn't provided Blaine and Kurt with much privacy. Burt and Carole at least sat in the living room pretending they couldn't hear the conversation.

"We're gonna teach him a lesson," Finn announced. "I'm not letting him get away with this. He's gonna find out the hard way that you don't mess with the Hudson-Hummels. You can't try to ruin my brother's beautiful relationship and steal my one of best friend's spot on the Warbler Council without feeling some pain!" Finn pounded his fist into his palm, but Kurt and Blaine were flashing him smiles. "Uh, guys, that's not really the reaction I was looking for."

"You think our relationship is beautiful?" Kurt asked, very aware that his arms were still wrapped around his boyfriend's neck, and Blaine's were tight around his waist.

"I'm one of your best friends?" Blaine asked.

Silence reigned for a good thirty seconds before Finn hitched a crooked smile on his lips. "Yeah, I thought you guys knew that already."

**o o o**

Nick paced around the empty Dalton common room, his hands shoved into his pockets as he observed the empty Council table. Three years he had sat on the leather couches and armchairs silent while three different Councils led the Warblers. In less than three weeks, he would be back in this room. But where would he sit? On the couches again? Or in the center position between Jeff and Cameron, where he belonged?

"You used to daydream about not singing the ukulele part, but I guess your goals have become loftier."

Nick turned sharply at the familiar voice. He hadn't realized ten o'clock had arrived or heard Blaine enter the room. The other boy's voice sounded tight and accusatory, which was only to be expected. Nick had, essentially, impeached Blaine from the position everyone had known would be his for three years.

"It takes a certain kind of person to manage something like this," Blaine said, coming farther into the room. Nick almost expected Wes, David, and all the other Team Blaine camp to march in after him. "We were best friends once, Nick. What did I ever do to you to make you turn on me like this?"

Nick inhaled sharply. "Blaine, don't take this personally. I had to say something. If it had been Jeff or Cameron, I would have had to do the same thing. This doesn't mean you're not a Warbler or that can't still be our lead soloist. It just means you're not our leader when school starts."

"Well, it's good to know you haven't taken away the one thing left at Dalton that I love." Nick recoiled a step at the venom in Blaine's voice. "But there's more to it than that, isn't there? It's _why_you did this."

"You really don't know why?"

"No, I do! If I'm not the best person to lead the Warblers, then I would have gladly stepped aside. But this had nothing to do with what's best for the Warblers. This was about what's best for _you_. For three years, you sat in this room and said _nothing_. You didn't even audition for solos until last year. Now, three weeks before I take the position in the Warblers that I've earned, you swoop in to take my place."

"I know it looks a little sordid, and you can fling whatever accusations you want at me, but I did this for the good of the Warblers."

"No, you did this because you're jealous."

Nick went still for a pregnant moment, but anger smoldered in his eyes. "_Are you kidding me?_" he spat. "I thought you were a bigger man, but you're taking _that_route? Fine. Let's talk about jealousy. Let's talk about you tagging along behind Jeff and me when you first transferred here; about how your family can just barely afford tuition here. Let's talk about – "

"Kurt," Blaine snapped.

Nick halted abruptly and craned his neck, as if he thought Kurt waited outside the door and Blaine had just called him in. After several beats, he asked, "What?"

"Let's talk about Kurt."

Nick cocked an eyebrow, totally caught off guard by the strange twist in the conversation. "I don't think Kurt had anything to – "

"_Don't_, Nick. I know you. You seem really smitten with Quinn, so I thought you'd grown out of your envy phase, but apparently not."

The other boy couldn't suppress his laughter. "Wait, wait, wait. You think I had you removed from the Warbler Council because I want Kurt? Seriously, Kurt is awesome, but I'm not gay. You know me, so you know that."

"Finn saw your text message. He told me what you sent to Jeff. I'm not going to try to label you, but you have some intention with Kurt."

Nick ran a hand through his unruly hair, honestly at a loss. He scanned his memory for any time in recent memory when he'd texted Jeff anything relating to Kurt. "Blaine, honestly, I have no idea what Finn was talking about. If you want to talk about why I approached the Council, then let's talk. But I can't refute arguments that make no sense to me."

Blaine stayed silent for several moments, his eyes trained on Nick's face. "I wish I could say I believe you, but until yesterday, I honestly thought you'd never do something like this to me. I was your friend when everyone thought you were just a screw up rich boy."

Nick turned away from the emotion in Blaine's voice. The memories from a time when he was so angry he cried out for attention in the worst ways came back more vivid than he cared to remember. That had all changed with the Warblers, and Blaine had practically dragged him to the audition.

"I – I don't – Okay, yes, what I did was partly selfish. I want to be Head Warbler. I didn't realize it until after the votes were cast. I probably never would have if you'd been in every meeting. I'm not blaming you, Blaine. Now that I have Quinn, I understand wanting to spend all your free time in Lima. I'm just trying to explain my side of things. Will you let me do that?"

Blaine nodded once.

"Thank you. I know you love the Warblers, but I think you love New Directions more. And it's not just because they have Kurt. The Blaine Anderson who joined this group was fifteen minutes early to every single rehearsal. Now you miss auditions to hang out with Brittany's cat. You never call Jeff or me to hang out anymore. If you're not with Kurt and his family, you're always with Santana or Brittany."

Blaine opened his mouth to object or explain, but Nick held up a hand.

"I'm not saying that's wrong. There's a reason you prefer spending time with them. I remember you when you came to Dalton, Blaine. You weren't raised like the rest of us; your parents are free-spirited hippies, even if your dad has forgotten the peace and love mantra. You're not a prep school boy, but you became one to fit in here. Maybe you fell in love with Kurt and picked Santana as your best friend because they remind you of who you were before some assholes beat it out of you."

Now Blaine turned away from Nick. His eyes fell on his reflection in the window and took in the gelled back hair and clean-shaven chin. He hadn't always liked this look and the morning routine it required. He used to look like Riley. The energy in his performances used to permeate every moment of his life. He'd been flamboyant in his effervesce the way Kurt was flamboyant with his wardrobe.

He'd changed in three years, and he couldn't reset his personality to an earlier time. But, sometimes, when he and Kurt gushed over the new seasonal fashions or when he bantered with Santana, he felt a sense of nostalgia, like finding a favored childhood toy that had been feared lost forever.

"I know what you just did, Nick," Blaine said flatly. "Manipulating a situation to your advantage is what you were raised to do. But it doesn't mean you're not right. You'll make a brilliant politician one day."

Blaine left the senior commons deep in thought. He didn't see the stricken look on Nick's face.

**o o o**

Will entered the auditorium on Monday, ready to quiz his students about how they had become active participants in their own lives. He slowed to a stop in the center aisle halfway down the steps. The Warblers had come to rehearsal in their Dalton uniforms. Curiously, the McKinley students also wore gray slacks or skirts and navy jackets.

Nick stood up unexpectedly and climbed onto his seat. "O Captain, My Captain!" he cried. Will stared at the Warbler, his mind not making the connection just yet. Kurt followed his lead a moment later. "O Captain, My Captain!" In twos and threes, the Warblers and New Directions stood on their chairs and chanted the opening line of the Walt Whitman poem at Will.

Or more accurately, they acted out the conclusion of _Dead Poets Society_ for him. Will took deep, steadying breaths. He hadn't been this overwhelmed by his kids in a long time.


	12. Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down

****Author's Note: ****The full cast list can be found here (remove the spaces): h t t p : / / arainymonday . wordpress . com / 2011 / 07 / 05 / a-fine-frenzy-cast-list

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twelve<strong>  
><strong>Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down<strong>

_Second week of August_

Kurt strode into the McKinley auditorium with his head held high and an icy glare directed at the Warblers who had mistreated his boyfriend. Blaine followed in his wake more sedately and hesitated at the dressing room door. He hadn't seen the Warblers since the Council let him down gently. Wes and David had made it clear they bitterly disapproved of the decision, but as graduated Warblers, they had no vote and very little sway anymore.

Kurt tightened his grip on Blaine's hand and led him down the row of vanities to the very end where Miss Pillsbury handed out costumes covered in clear plastic garment bags. The dark-haired boy allowed himself to be directed around because he didn't know what else to do. The Warblers' body language told him they felt as uncomfortable as he did.

"You boys should start getting ready in the next half hour. Will wants a cast meeting at six-thirty," the guidance councilor said, as she handed over their costumes.

Kurt started to lead the charge to vanities next to Wes and David, but Blaine didn't want to put his friends in an awkward position. He tugged insistently on Kurt's arm until his boyfriend relented and sat down next to Santana.

"Hey. How you holding up?" Santana inquired, with a gentle touch to Blaine's elbow. Kurt arched his brows dramatically at her tone – the one he'd only heard her use with Brittany. "I'm all for kicking some Warbler ass if I need to."

"I'm … I've talked to Nick, and I have a lot of things to think about. But I'll be fine," he answered.

The girl didn't look convinced. "The pensive, secretive thing doesn't work for me. You told me all about how you want …" She trailed off, and Kurt didn't miss the significant look Blaine had thrown at her. " … but you won't tell me what you're thinking right now? That is so not okay."

"I don't know what I'm supposed to say," Blaine said honestly. "The glee club I've been lead soloist for for two years just decided I'm not leadership material after all. And Nick said some stuff about how he remembers I was different when I first came to Dalton …."

"Of course you were," Kurt said quickly. "You'd just been the victim of a hate crime."

Santana paled. "What the hell, Anderson? Leave out a few details during our heart-to-hearts?"

Blaine balked, clearly not wanting to get into the specifics at that very moment. That was fine with Kurt because he had some things to get off his chest.

"How apropos. "What the hell," indeed, Santana? I knew you two were friends, but you've only been this nice to one person in all the time I've known you, and you're in love with her, if the rumors are remotely accurate."

Santana scowled at Kurt. "I'm not in love with your boyfriend, so you can lay off the jealousy shtick. I just … like Blaine, okay? I'm allowed to like people sometimes. He reminds me of Brittany. If she knew how to count to 100 and didn't have whole conversations with her cat."

In a way, Kurt could see her point. Blaine and Brittany both had a certain naiveté about them that made them somewhat innocent and genuinely kind souls. They were loyal and idealistic and proud of who they were despite their obvious flaws.

Blaine only grinned at the description, which made Kurt think they'd talked about this before. With a sudden sinking feeling he realized that led to an immediate comparison between himself and Santana that he didn't feel entirely comfortable exploring. He liked her well enough, but she also irritated him immensely at times with her brash attitude.

"Oh God," Kurt groaned. He, too, pushed too hard for what he wanted.

Santana and Blaine held in their laughter for just a few seconds before erupting into giggles that drew the attention of their peers. Kurt turned away with a scowl to find Cameron standing over him with a massive make-up case in hand.

"Hi, Kurt."

Cameron was one of the Warblers Kurt did not feel in the mood to interact with today. He had played a part in taking away Blaine's position on the Council, and key part at that. Kurt had called David for information since Blaine didn't want to relive every moment. David had said, "Once you're a Warbler, you're a Warbler for life," and filled in Kurt on all the details that really shouldn't have left the meeting at all. Kurt knew which Warblers had wronged Blaine, and Cameron was among them. He turned back to his mirror, pretending not to notice him at all.

"I get that you're pissed at me, but we have a performance in a few hours. Quinn and I are going to help the Warblers with their costumes and hair and make-up since they were horrible during dress rehearsal. We could use your help."

He said nothing for a few moments, but realized Blaine and Santana had stopped laughing and watched him for his reaction. He sighed and nodded, climbing down from his chair to go help get the more hopeless Warblers into their costumes properly.

"So tell me really. How are you?" Santana insisted.

Blaine gave a sorrowful sigh. "Not great. I feel like my friends are punishing me for making new friends. But I kind of feel like I deserve it for letting them down. But I'm not sorry I've become friends with you and Brittany either. The Warblers are all about being part of the group, seventeen voices making one melody. I've never felt less part of that group. I should be spending as much time with them as I can getting back into my old groove, but every time I'm with them, I want to be somewhere else – with my New Directions friends."

"Why?" Brittany asked innocently. She had come up on them during the middle of Blaine's speech.

He thought for a moment. "I used to think Kurt wanted to come back here so badly because he missed his friends here. I know that was part of it, but it's more than that too. You're his friends because he can be _Kurt_ around you. That's how I feel. I can just be … _Blaine_." He shook his head. "That probably doesn't make any sense."

"I think it does," the blonde girl said. "After we quit the Cheerios, I felt more like Brittany. I didn't really like being a Cheerio that much anymore, but I didn't know that until I stopped being one." Santana nodded solemnly. "I'm really glad that I didn't let Coach Sylvester kill me by shooting me out of that cannon."

Blaine did a double take, not sure whether to take her seriously or not. She said a lot of outlandish things, but then the cheerleading coach did a lot of crazy stunts too.

"Of course it makes sense," Tina said from his other side. "That's what New Directions is all about. Embracing what makes us unique makes us stronger. I pretended for years that I had a stutter, but it wasn't until I become friends with Kurt, Mercedes, Rachel, and Artie that I felt okay just being _Tina_."

"We should totally make you a "Born This Way" t-shirt," Brittany said excitedly.

Blaine knew all about the infamous shirts New Directions wore while singing the Lady Gaga song. He finally understood what Brittany had meant by making Santana a "Lebanese" t-shirt, and he'd asked Kurt to wear his "Likes Boys" shirt a couple times. But he'd never considered having one of his own.

"Miss Pillsbury still has the letter press thing," Finn supplied. He'd been walking past with his costume and paused to join the conversation. "I know we won't perform the song again or anything, but I kind of like wearing my "Can't Dance" shirt sometimes."

"What would yours say?" Mike asked, leaning around Tina.

"Eyebrows," Brittany stated. At the same time, Santana said, "Hobbit." Tina guessed, "Hipster" with a note of disdain in her voice.

Blaine rolled his eyes. "I feel so very _accepted _right now."

He realized a second later they generally wanted an answer and that they had every intention of asking Miss Pillsbury to make him a t-shirt. Their suggestions might all be true, but they were too easy. And that's when he realized what his shirt should say. He told them. Without saying a word, five hands settled on his shoulders and arms in support. He had an image of them reading each others' shirts for the first time before their performance and giving the same comfort.

"Okay, I'm back," Kurt announced. He stopped short when he saw the scene around the vanity. "And missing something."

"We're going to ask Miss Pillsbury to make Blaine a "Born This Way" t-shirt. If you want us to," Finn said, directing the last statement at Blaine.

Blaine nodded once. It would do him a world of good to see that shirt hanging in his closet. This summer would have been so much simpler if he'd had a reminder of how much of an idiot he could be sometimes.

"Oh." Kurt clearly hadn't expected that. "That's great. I know how much you like mine," he teased. "What's it going to say?"

Blaine told him. Kurt's lips twitched, but settled into a frown when he realized his boyfriend was absolutely serious. He wrapped his arms around Blaine's neck. Finn left briefly to get Rachel, and apparently filled her in on the situation, because she marched straight up to Blaine and hugged him tightly.

Despite the somber mood, Blaine grinned fondly at his friends in the mirror. Yes, he was a _Lost Boy_, but these people loved him in spite of his tendency to behave wildly inappropriately and act contradictory to his words and only show his true self in his performances.

**o o o**

Wes scrutinized his hair and makeup in the vanity mirror, turning his neck from side-to-side to make sure he had applied the make-up perfectly. His stint in _Camelot _had provided him a crash course in stage makeup, and he was one of the few Warblers not clambering for Cameron, Kurt, or Quinn's attention. Satisfied with his makeup and hair – which would be augmented quickly with donkey ears – he went to get his costume from Miss Pillsbury.

"And here are your ears," she said, handing over a headband. "You know, not every student would be so eager to wear these."

He grinned and shrugged. "A good actor does whatever is right for the part, and Bottom is a great character to play."

"You're going to Tisch in the fall, aren't you?" Wes nodded and couldn't keep the pride off his face. "That's amazing, Wes. Congratulations. I don't know a lot about musical theater, but I've enjoyed watching you rehearse your parts all summer. I wish I could be in the audience tonight."

"Thank you, Miss Pillsbury."

Wes accepted his costume and props from the guidance councilor, who he decided he liked quite a bit, and returned to his station. He halted a few paces away when he saw Artie waiting for him with a solemn expression. Wes glanced away and took a steadying breath. He was angry at many people right now – Nick, Thad, and Cameron, for starters – but no one more than Artie.

"Wes," the other boy started, rolling over to him. "I know you probably don't want to talk to me right now, but please just listen for a minute. I didn't know Ros was your girlfriend when I met her, and if I had, I never would have acted like that at the party. I know what it feels like to be cheated on, and I would never do that to someone else."

If Artie wasn't in a wheelchair, Wes might have hit him he was so angry. "From what I hear, you're spending quite a bit of time with Ros." Artie shifted his eyes guiltily. "Yeah, that's what I thought. So save your empty apologies."

"Technically, you two bro – "

"Trust me, I know that," Wes snapped. "Ros and I have been together for _four years_. I was going to marry her and start a family with her. So, yeah, we broke up. It doesn't change the fact that we have more history than you can imagine!"

Wes felt a hand gripping firmly at his forearm, and he realized he'd come closer to Artie and loomed over the boy in the wheelchair. He backed off quickly and turned to see Nick staring levelly at him. Wes shrugged off the other Warbler's hand.

"Don't," Wes hissed at him. "Don't presume you're in charge here. As far as I'm concerned, it's still Blaine who gets the gavel after me. If you want it, you can pry it from my fingers the first day of school. Until then, back off."

Nick and Wes stared each other down for a full thirty seconds. Tension crackled in the air all around them, but neither realized they had drawn the attention of the Warblers and a few New Directions members too. Finally, Nick put his hands up in surrender and went back to his vanity next to Quinn, who watched with furrowed brow.

"You know," David whispered when Wes sat down again, "it _is_going to be Nick. The only other senior is Jesse, and he has no interest in taking a leadership role."

"I know," Wes admitted bitterly. "It's so wrong, David. Blaine has been our frontman for years, and he's stuck his neck out to make the Warblers a better group. With Nick as Head Warbler, they might as well rename the group Nick Duval and the Warblers. You really think Jeff or Cameron will oppose anything he wants? They've been tagging along behind him since freshman year."

"Don't underestimate Jeff," David said. "He's easy-going, but he's not spineless. You're purposely forgetting that he voted to keep Blaine on the Council because you want to be mad at the world. I don't blame you. I'm pissed too. Just don't beat up on Jeff or all the Warblers will gang up on you and kidnap your gavel again."

Wes sighed deeply. "I know, I know. You're right. I just …. Why did everything have to fall apart three weeks before we leave for college?"

"Better than three weeks after, I say. We'll have enough to deal with settling in to college and new cities. Speaking of, I'm definitely spending fall break in New York with you, so prepare your roommates for that immediately."

"No way. I'm spending fall break with you. Come on, David, Boston in the fall! You can spend another weekend with me."

David followed Wes to the changing rooms to get into costume, keeping up a constant stream of banter to distract his best friend from unpleasant realities.

**o o o**

Will flipped over pages attached to his clipboard and mentally checked off everything he had already done. The whole cast had gotten into their costumes, and Emma double checked they were in the correct clothes and that everything fit properly. Finishing touches were being done to hair and makeup at the vanities.

"Okay, guys!" Will called, motioning for all the students to gather around.

It took several minutes of jostling until they formed an amoeba-shaped ring. Will took Emma and Rachel's hands on either side of him and waited to speak until the cast had formed a circle of interlocking hands.

"You have all worked so hard this summer. I'm so proud of each and every one of you. We've had our ups and downs like any cast, but we've made it this far together. Tonight is your night to shine, every single one of you. A cast, just like a glee club, only succeeds because of each member's unique strengths working together. The rest of the year, we might be two competing schools, but this summer we became a team. Take a look around at this extraordinary thing we've done and be as proud of yourself as I am."

The students' eyes darted around to take in their cast mates. Nervousness and affection mingled together in their gazes. Blaine, standing between Kurt and Santana, found it a little easier to look at the Warblers with their hands in his. Wes glared at several boys in the circle, but when David squeezed his hand, he turned away reluctantly to more friendly faces. Sam and Mercedes shared a glance and hastily averted their eyes.

Will exhaled deeply. "Places."

The circle gradually broke apart as the students dropped hands and moved to their marks in clusters. Emma circulated among them, redirecting the few who had forgotten since dress rehearsal or were too nervous to remember exactly where they were meant to stand.

Will peaked out from behind the curtain to watch the crowd file in to the McKinley auditorium – or as the invitation called it The April Rhodes Civic Pavilion, because it sounded more prestigious. Families and friends of the Warblers and New Directions had begun to arrive around six-thirty for the seven o'clock curtain.

In every few faces, Will could see familiar features of the kids he had been working with on the musical. He had only ever met Burt and Carole Hummel and wasn't surprised to see them sitting in the very front row with two men who must be Rachel's dads. Shannon had come to support the kids she had helped cast, and of course Emma was backstage getting them all dressed. He was surprised to see a familiar red track suit in the audience, however.

Will left the curtain and made a quick loop around the backstage area to make sure everything was in order. He had appointed Emma his Assistant Director, and she had everything in hand.

"The band is taking places in the pit, and I made sure they all had their sheet music," Emma summarized. "Everything is set back here."

Will checked his watch: 7:02. With one final adjustment to his suit jacket and tie, he strode out onto the stage in front of the heavy red curtain to make his opening remarks.

For any other performance, the sound booth would be filled with AV students, but there would be no lighting or sound crew at the Renaissance Faire. They would be performing outside in the middle of the day with no electrical equipment, and Will wanted the preview as similar as possible to the actual performance.

"Thank you for coming to see this special preview performance of _A Mid-Summer Night's Dream_tonight," Will said, projecting his voice so the whole auditorium could hear him even without a microphone. "I'm Will Schuester, glee club director and Spanish teacher here at William McKinley High School. My New Directions and the Dalton Academy Warblers have been on friendly terms since before Sectionals last year, and I'm so proud of all of these students. It's so rare to make friends with the competition, but as you'll see tonight, the rewards are worth the effort of finding commonalities and uniting. Your children have worked incredibly hard this summer to put on this musical, and I sincerely thank you for supporting them and believing in them. It has been my pleasure to direct them in this musical and watch them grow as actors and singers and young people. We hope you enjoy the show."

Will left the stage and came to meet a very nervous-looking Kurt waiting in the wings. He placed a hand on the starring student's shoulder and squeezed lightly. Rachel – who entered in the middle of the first scene – dashed up to Kurt and threw her arms around his neck.

"One day, everyone sitting in the audience tonight will say they saw Kurt Hummel in his first ever starring role," she said, beaming at her friend. Kurt smiled so widely all his teeth disappeared. He hugged Rachel back fiercely. "Go out there and show them what it means to be a star, Kurt."

The overture music began playing, and the star of the show danced out of the wings singing the opening lines and captivating the audience with his angelic voice and stage presence.

Halfway through the first act, Will began to see that things were not all well among the cast. Apparently, some of the students had gotten in arguments earlier, but that was nothing new. He thought they had smoothed out their problems or at least set aside their differences for the next three hours. That certainly was not the case, however.

While they managed to remain professional on stage and perform well – if a little nervously at times – all bets were off backstage. In their rush to make an exit or entrance, bumped shoulders resulted in fierce glares instead of apologies. More than one frantic student searching for a prop received no help from cast mates. When Nick almost missed his cue to enter, Wes – who was also entering – bodily dragged him out of the wings.

If Will didn't need his full attention on directing the students backstage, he would have taken them to task immediately for their behavior. Instead, he let them sort it out by themselves so as to not jeopardize the performance. The simmering disappointment turned to anger after the conversation he heard during intermission, however.

"Hey, Finn. How about you put some effort into getting your lines right?" Nick asked sarcastically. "I know you're not exactly an honors student, but seriously, if I hear any more mutilated Shakespeare my head might explode."

"How about you put some effort into staying in key?" Kurt fired back before Finn could defend himself. "The Mechanicals numbers are _torture_because of you."

"Kurt," Blaine murmured warningly.

The countertenor wasn't backing down. He stepped closer to Nick and glowered down at the shorter boy. "And don't you _ever_insult my brother again, Duval, or you'll regret it."

"Stop this, both of you!" Quinn exclaimed, stepping between the boys.

"We're in the middle of a performance," Mike stated, "and we're supposed to be helping redecorate the set pieces."

"Thank you, Mike," Will said, glaring at the other students. "That is exactly what you're all supposed to be doing."

The students scrambled away to take care of their intermission duties, but Will saw them whispering conspiratorially together. Kurt looked about ready to bludgeon Nick with the heaviest prop he could find, which surprised Will because they'd been so close at the beginning of the summer. Wes, the politest young man Will had ever met, walked right past Artie, who struggled to reach high enough to take down the wreath of flowers Rachel had accidentally placed too high. The tension had even affected Mercedes and Sam, who switched out the drapes on the framework set piece with clenched jaws.

"What is going on, Will?" Emma asked. She looked as concerned as he felt.

"I don't know, but we don't have time to find out just now. Intermission is over in four minutes. Let's get the kids to their marks."

**o o o**

Kurt held the last, beautiful high note until he ran out of breath. The music faded away gently, leaving the starring actor alone on stage in the silent auditorium. The audience sat in respectful awe for several beats, and then they broke into wild applause. The countertenor beamed and looked right and left as his cast mates filed onto the stage from the wings. They linked hands, bowed twice, and left the stage to thunderous approval.

Will let his students go meet their friends and family outside the auditorium doors and bask in their praise. It wasn't every day New Directions received compliments for their talent, and it would be cruel to take that away from them, even if he was furious at their behavior.

Gradually, they said farewells to their families and drifted backstage again. After they had removed their makeup and changed into their own clothes, Emma ushered them into the choir room as Will had asked her to do. Some of the Dalton parents, and Burt and Carole, had planned an after party at Breadstix they all needed to get to, but that would have to wait.

Will stood in front of the assembled group and surveyed their reactions. The blameless ones were able to make eye contact, but the guilty parties wore varying expressions of defiance or shame, depending on their personality.

"First, I want to say that you all performed excellently tonight. You should be proud of the show you put on. But you also know that I have to say something about your behavior backstage. I cannot believe some of the things I saw and heard tonight. I'm proud of the musical, but I'm ashamed of this cast."

He let the uncomfortable silence stretch for as long as possible and considered how to proceed. He was their teacher, but this was unrelated to school. He had no authority over the Warblers, except as the musical director, and they were so close to the actual performance he didn't feel he could punish them anyway.

"Whatever is going on between you personally, you have to set it aside and act professionally. We can't pull off the performance at the Renaissance Faire if you're unwilling to work together. So whatever has happened, work it out before next week. I won't tolerate behavior like this in Indianapolis. Before each of you get on the bus tomorrow morning, you will promise to act professionally the whole time we're there or you won't be performing."

He sighed deeply and leaned back against the piano. "I don't understand what happened, guys. A few days ago, you were all in uniform standing on your chairs chanting 'O Captain, My Captain.'"

Silence reigned in the choir room for thirty seconds, and then a strangled sob from Mercedes broke the tension. Will started and jolted forward automatically. Mercedes had never gotten emotional like this before. The rest of New Directions looked just as startled. Sam turned away from the crying girl, and Kurt rushed to comfort her.

"It's all your fault, Mr. Schue!" Mercedes wailed from within Kurt's embrace. "You and your stupid acting exercise! It ruined everything good!"

Will gapped open-mouth as the cast began muttering under their breath. Some of Warblers seemed to be in agreement with Mercedes. He didn't know what to say – or even think – about the accusation. The sobbing girl struggled out of Kurt's arms and fled the room, her cries echoing through the empty hallways.

Kurt stood up straight and lifted his chin into the air. With more decorum than Mercedes, he followed her out of the room with a pointed glare at his glee club director. Finn went next, slouching and casting dark looks at Nick. Wes and David exchanged a glance before leaving together, but not before patting Blaine's shoulder reassuringly. The Warbler's lead singer looked more resigned than angry as he, too, left the room in their wake. Santana and Brittany took that as their signal to leave too. They hurried to catch up to Blaine and linked their arms with his. Sam went out after them with his fists shoved into his pockets.

Rachel leapt up from her seat and marched behind her fleeing cast mates. At the door, she turned to Will. "I'd just like to say for the record that I found the acting exercise stimulating and beneficial, but there has never been a New Directions storm out I've not been part of."

"What's going on here?" Will asked the remaining students. When no one answered, he went on. "I don't think it's fair to blame me for something like this and then not tell me what I supposedly did."

"The Warblers kicked Blaine out," Tina said flatly. "So now everyone who likes Blaine hates them. Including me, by the way." She stood up to storm out, and Mike jumped up after me.

"We didn't kick him out!" Nick shot back. "We removed him from the Council. And I find it really interesting that the people who are most upset about that aren't even affect by it. Blaine's resigned to it, and Wes and David have graduated. The rest of you getting pissed on his behalf don't even go to our school."

Mike made a rude hand gesture at Nick as Tina pulled him out the door. Will did a double take. _Mike Chang_had just been intentionally rude to someone. The world had truly upended itself.

"This is crazy," Quinn said, looking around at the remaining students. The Warblers, aside from Blaine, Wes, and David, were left sitting with herself, Artie, Puck, and Lauren. "How are we supposed to be a team when we're _this _divided?"

Will rubbed his forehead and pinched the bridge of his nose. Just once, he wanted a performance to happen without first descending into melodrama.


	13. I Will Go Down With This 'Ship

**Chapter Thirteen**  
><strong>I Will Go Down With This 'Ship<strong>

_Third week of August_

The bus pulled out of the McKinley parking lot just after seven o'clock full of bleary-eyed teenagers. Dalton Academy had loaned one of their buses for the Warblers and New Directions to use for the trip, and the teenagers had immediately taken full advantage of the spacious, cushioned seats and gone back to sleep.

They began to wake over the course of the next hour and slip in earbuds to watch movies on laptops or listen to their iPods. Some quiet conversations between seatmates started up gradually as the morning wore on. By the time they reached the Ohio-Indiana border around eight-thirty, nearly everyone was fully awake and pleading for coffee.

Mr. Schuester granted them a short rest stop in Richmond, Indiana at a little shopping plaza with a Burger King, McDonald's, and Subway. They boarded the bus happier with cups of coffee and bags of unhealthy breakfast food.

"Okay, now that everyone is awake," Mr. Schuester said, standing up and turning around in his seat. "I have our itinerary for the next three days. After we check in to the hotel today and construct our set on the stage, you all have a free day to explore the Renaissance Faire. Remember, curfew is nine o'clock, and you're not to go anywhere alone."

"Buddy check!" Jeff cried.

Mr. Schue rolled his eyes as clasped hands shot up all over the bus. "Tomorrow afternoon is our first performance. We'll have one more dress rehearsal in the morning at Fishers High School, and then we'll all go over to the Faire together for the performance. We also have an evening performance, so there won't be any free time tomorrow. Sunday we have an afternoon show, but you're free the rest of the day."

The teacher passed a stack of papers down each side of the bus, and the students took a moment to glance at their schedule for the next three days. If Indianapolis had any must-see attractions, there would be ample opportunity. From what Flint reported, however, his home city had nothing more exciting to offer than a smallish art museum, children's museum, and war monument.

The bus dropped the cast off at the entrance of the medium-sized Marriott, and the teenagers helped unload their suitcases from the storage compartment while Mr. Schue went inside to check them in. When they entered the cool air conditioning of the lobby, he had their room keys and left them to work out sleeping arrangements with one caveat: no couples in the same room.

Kurt elected to stay in the same room with the girls, who seemed to expect Blaine to want the same thing. Santana pouted a little when he decided to take Mike up on his offer and room with the New Directions guys and Mr. Schue. The other Warblers divided up between the remaining two rooms.

They had no sooner dropped off their bags than the teacher had them onto the bus again and driving to the Ren Faire. The hotel was less than half a mile from the Faire grounds, but with Fishers traffic it ended up a twenty-five minute drive. At the grounds, the bus rounded a lot full of cars and a collection of brightly colored tents. People in period dress (and some dressed as mythical creatures) wandered around the various booths and entertainment, occasionally breaking character to text or smoke a cigarette.

At the stage – a generous name for a rectangular platform two feet off the ground – Mr. Schue supervised while the cast unloaded the lightweight set piece and set up the woodwork frame. The set dressings remained in their hard plastic containers and were padlocked in a nearby storage locker until tomorrow. Finally, at one o'clock Mr. Schue turned the students loose to go appreciate what little of the massive Renaissance Faire they could see in a single afternoon.

**o o o**

Nick and Quinn made their way through the Renaissance Faire hand-in-hand. Despite the utter geek factor of the event, Quinn had to admit to enjoying herself quite a bit. She felt a bit like she had stepped onto the set of _The Tudors_. She admired the women in beautifully detailed dresses for moving gracefully despite the added weight of the fabric and wished she could put on her costume to experience the Faire in the same way they did.

A cluster of madrigals dressed in hose and tunics stood at the intersection of two rows singing an unfamiliar tune. They loitered in a crowd of listeners for a few minutes before drifting on to other sights. A middle-aged woman sat under a tree telling the tale of _Saint George and the Dragon_to a clutch of rapt children. Further away from the vendor stalls, five men and women had lined up for an archery contest. Across the way, two burly men demonstrated sword fighting with safety-taped weapons.

Everywhere she looked, Quinn saw pendants and standards flying in the high wind that only barely counteracted the oppressive humidity. A group of belly dancers in gypsy costumes rushed by on their way to their show. A man in a jester's costume sat on a wooden stool beneath a tree playing a lute. At every turn, some new sight or sound appeared in front of Quinn's eye.

"I think we need more than two half-days to see everything," she commented.

Nick had halted in front of the jousting pavilion and watched in awe as a man on horseback swooped off his saddle and captured a ring on the tip of his blunt spear. Quinn leaned against the safety blockade and found herself soon cheering with the rest of the spectators.

After the tournament ended, they made their way into a courtyard created by colorful tents. Eight couples danced in a wide circle to a strange mash-up of traditional Renaissance music and Aerosmith rifts.

"I think they're trying to make the point that our music evolved from Renaissance music," Nick said.

She nodded slowly. "There is something almost similar about it."

When the dancers concluded their performance, they announced it was time for something called "pass the wench." Before Quinn could object, she and Nick had been ushered into a ring of dancers. A couple in the center demonstrated the dance – two steps to the right, turn to your partner, two steps to the left, turn to your partner. It seemed insanely boring until they came to the "pass the wench" part. After the first dance cycle, men lifted their partners up, spun, and set her down. The dance continued until the women had made their way around the circle, being "passed" by each man.

"Well if this isn't a statement on our sexist culture, I don't know what is," Quinn muttered. Several couples in earshot twittered appreciatively.

The first cycle went off without a hitch. Quinn had danced with Nick many times and could gauge his upper body strength well enough to know how high he would lift her. The problems began with subsequent dance partners. Some of the more muscular men tossed her into the air like she was light as a child. Every time she flew higher than expected, Quinn's stomach dropped. It felt more like a rollercoaster ride than a dance.

At the end, the dancers cheered for their audience participants and invited everyone back for the next dance that evening. Quinn apparently looked flushed from the dance because Nick bought her a cold, slushy fruit drink.

"I wonder if madrigals ever got Slushied," she pondered, sipping at her strawberry refreshment. "And here's another question – how did Renaissance vendors _freeze_their desserts?"

"I believe the group that puts on these events is called the Society for Creative _Anachronism_for a reason," Nick said with a grin.

Even with the cool dessert, the heat and physical exertion was almost too much for Quinn. After another half hour, she reluctantly admitted that she wasn't flushed; she was sunburned. Kurt had offered his SPF 100 sunblock on the bus, but no one had taken him up on it. Quinn wished she would have now, and she suspected several other fair-skinned cast mates would too.

"We should go back to the hotel and put some aloe on your skin before it gets worse," Nick said.

As reluctant as she was to leave the Faire, her face had started to hurt from the burn. The walk to the hotel took just over ten minutes keeping to the sidewalks. Nick came into the vacant girls' room with Quinn.

"Go take a cool shower. I'll find some aloe for you."

While Quinn disappeared into the bathroom – a little nervous to take off her clothes and get into the shower with her boyfriend so close by – Nick texted all the girls and Kurt to ask if anyone had aloe Quinn could use. Not surprisingly, Kurt had brought a bottle of aloe lotion. He followed Kurt's directions and located the lotion in the front compartment of his suitcase. He also found a couple other interesting items there: condoms and a bottle of lubricant.

"Why are you grinning like the Cheshire cat?" Quinn asked.

Nick hastily zipped up Kurt's suitcase and held up the bottle of aloe lotion. She had put on a blue tank top that showed a burn line along her upper arms and collar.

"Ouch. Come sit down," he said, sitting down on the end of the bed.

Hesitantly, Quinn perched delicately beside him. "I can – " But Nick had already pumped the bottle once and rubbed the cool lotion between his palms. Gently, he ran his hands over Quinn's reddened skin. She shuddered at the featherlight touch that raised gooseflesh on her arms. He said nothing about it as he moved on to her neck and, even more gently, her face.

"There. Unless I missed a spot?"

She shook her head, and he went into the bathroom to wipe the excess lotion off on a towel. When he came back into the room, he found Quinn occupying the smallest corner of the bed possible. She leapt up the moment they made eye contact.

"We should go."

"Okay. Where?" he asked.

"Anywhere that's not a hotel room."

Nick's brow furrowed for a moment, and then his expression cleared. "I brought you back here because you're sunburned, and that's the only reason. You know that, right?" When she didn't answer, he sighed and sank down on the bed. "I get that you have some issues in this area after everything you've been through, but I've tried really, _really_hard not to push you."

Quinn hovered between the bed and the door, between discussing sex and running away from it. The mature option won out in the end, and she sat next to her boyfriend, but did not touch him.

"You haven't pushed me, Nick. You've been a perfect gentleman."

Almost too much, she wanted to say. Nick had seemed to think Quinn feeling his boners amounted to a mortal offense, and he'd nearly jumped out of his skin the first time she rubbed her thigh against him to relieve some of the tension. Since then, he'd relaxed about it, but still broke off their make out sessions before he was forced to think of the mail or Coach Beiste or whatever cooled him off.

"But it's better to remove the temptation altogether than regret giving in later," she added.

Nick observed her silently for several moments. "Can I ask you something, Quinn?" She nodded once. "Is your pregnancy the only reason you're president of the celibacy club?"

"No, I – " she laughed harshly " – was president of the celibacy club when I got pregnant."

"Then what? I know your family is conservative and you're a Christian, but I don't get the sense you're a hardcore Bible-thumper with the way you accept Kurt."

"I used to be. That's why I joined celibacy club in the first place, but being in glee and going through what I did made me see the world a little differently. I joined the celibacy club again because I wanted to go back to the girl I was freshmen year. But it's impossible to go back."

"So … are you still in the club?"

She knew what he was really asking: are you open to going further physically? Quinn stayed quiet for several moments before answering.

"I – I don't know. I'm waiting for … something. I'm not sure what."

"Love?"

"I already have that," she said, smiling coyly at him.

"Marriage?"

"That's an easy out."

"Commitment?"

"Maybe."

Nick reached over and gently put her sunburned hand in his palm. "You don't realize this yet, Quinn, but you have what you're waiting for right now. When you know it for sure, I'll be here."

He leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss to her warm, slightly burned lips.

**o o o**

"Do you want to see the Faire?" Blaine asked tentatively.

"Yes. These clothes are fantastic." Kurt realized too late his boyfriend was gently asking him if they could leave. "But we can see it Sunday afternoon if there's something else you'd rather do."

"Oh, no. That's okay. We can stay."

"Blaine." He took Blaine's hand, despite being in public in a Midwestern city. "Let's go."

As they made their way through the crowds and out of the Ren Faire, Kurt called up the IndyGo map and schedule on his phone. After a few minutes studying it, and with some help from Blaine, they found a relatively close bus stop and selected the Indianapolis Museum of Art as their destination. It was the only mildly cultural destination in the vicinity.

"Will we get in trouble for leaving?" Blaine asked, as they boarded the bus.

"If Rachel and I can have breakfast at Tiffany's and break into a Broadway theater without Mr. Schue realizing, I think we can pull off a trip to an art museum."

The ride through the slightly dingy city was unnecessarily long with the multitude of stops, but eventually they were deposited within walking distance of a tranquil corner of Indianapolis. The museum didn't look overly large, and the parking lot size certainly indicated moderate crowds. A large garden surrounded the three-story sandstone museum, and only a smattering of people meandered along the walkway. Forefront in the garden was a rainbow-colored LOVE sculpture. Kurt's heart leapt into his throat when he saw it.

"Am I really seeing this?" Blaine inquired. "We _are_in Indiana still, right?"

The air had turned sticky with the afternoon, but garden called to them anyway. They followed the path under the shade of a row of young maple trees past a lawn with a fountain and several nude sculptures. They talked very little as the strolled along, but reveled in the emptiness and ability to hold hands.

The walkway looped around to the front of the museum again, but instead of going inside, they followed a side trail to a circular stone bench covered by a leafy tree canopy. Blaine sat down first, and Kurt took a seat beside him. He sensed that they had come to the reason Blaine wanted to leave the Renaissance Faire. He sat quietly while his boyfriend collected his thoughts.

"Kurt, awhile ago you said there was something bothering me that I wasn't telling you about. You were right, and I'm so sorry for keeping it from you." Kurt tightened his hold on his boyfriend's hand, but stayed silent. "After we started being intimate, I realized there are certain things I want that scared me, and I didn't deal with it very well. I – I always thought I was a … _top_," he whispered the word although they were alone, "but I – I don't think that's what I want anymore." He watched Kurt fearfully for a reaction.

"I know. You've already told me." Blaine's jaw slackened. "When we were in St. Louis, you told me you wanted me to top. That's why I wanted to finger you at Nick's party."

Blaine looked like Kurt had just slapped him. He dropped his head into his hands, and Kurt gently rubbed his boyfriend's back.

"Blaine, why – why does it scare you so much? Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I do!" the dark-haired boy exclaimed, looking up sharply. "I love you. I trust you. I – God, Kurt. I'm such an idiot. I didn't think I was allowed to want that."

Kurt looked amused. "Of course you are. I want it too." Blaine looked flustered. "I'm usually topping you in my fantasies – " Blaine moaned lustily. " – but I want to bottom sometimes too."

"I – I didn't even …. Oh, I _am_ an idiot."

"You have this really irritating habit, you know. Your brain stops functioning when it comes to important decisions. You want half off at the GAP and – " He broke off and laughed when Blaine nudged him. "I wish you would have talked to me earlier. Why didn't you?"

This was the part of the conversation Blaine didn't want to have. He still hadn't figured out how to explain his feelings without insulting and hurting Kurt.

"I've taken my share of abuse for being gay, Kurt. But only after I came out. Before that, no one bothered me. I like football and drive a vintage car and dress like this. Those same guys who beat me up after the Sadie Hawkins dance used to have me over at their houses to play video games and talk sports with me."

Kurt frowned. "I don't follow."

"I thought wanting to bottom made me less masculine," he admitted in a small voice. Kurt inhaled sharply. "But now I realize that being a man and being masculine are totally different."

Blaine looked at his boyfriend with regret and gauged his reaction. Kurt's jaw had gone tight, and his eyes betrayed his hurt.

"I know how that sounds, Kurt," he said hurriedly. "Please, _please_ don't think I've ever considered you less of a man. You've always been stronger than me. From the first day we met, I knew that."

"I cried that day."

"I wanted to cry after my bullies attacked me, but I was too afraid to show anyone how much I hurt. Your emotions make you stronger, Kurt."

The boys leaned into each other, hands clasped and foreheads gently touching. Despite what he'd just said, Blaine knew they would be okay. Admitting his fears had brought them closer together instead of coming between them.

"Blaine," Kurt said quietly, "I'm ready."

Blaine drew in a sharp breath and felt his heartbeat double. Every sensation from Kurt's hand in his to the sweat trickling down the back of his neck set his skin on fire. He didn't realize he was shaking until Kurt put his other hand on top of his.

"I – I'm not sure if I am," he admitted. "I'm sor – "

"No. Don't apologize for that. I've felt like I've been pushing you all summer, but I won't pressure you into losing your virginity. We'll wait until you're ready, and I'll be patient."

"You haven't, Kurt. You haven't made me do anything I didn't want. I kind of thought my reaction to you would have proven that." He flashed a smirk at his boyfriend. "And I don't want to stop. In fact, I kind of really want you to … to finger me."

Kurt made a high-pitched whine in his throat Blaine had only heard during their most intimate moments. His eyes had darkened, and if the way he repositioned his messenger bag meant anything …. Blaine leered salaciously at his boyfriend.

"Blaine," Kurt gasped, "stop it. We're in public. Oh, and look, there's a family with small children." Kurt let the family pass before saying anything else. "We're skipping the art museum and going back to the hotel," he stated firmly.

Blaine did not object.

**o o o**

Finn walked away from the food stand gnawing on a gigantic leg of roast chicken. Rachel looked up from her carrot sticks and hummus to stare at her boyfriend. He looked positively barbaric ripping the meat off the bone with his teeth.

"Before we kiss, you need to brush and floss. Twice," she added, as he sucked in a tendril of grizzle. The vegan shuddered and tossed her half-finished food in a nearby trashcan, her appetite completely gone.

"This place is amazing!" he said, barely having heard her complaints. "There's food everywhere!"

Rachel cast a disapproving look at her boyfriend. She wanted to go watch the dancing or madrigals, but Finn insisted on stopping at every food booth they passed, and there were a lot of food vendors down this particular row. He'd spent nearly all of his pocket money already, and she was glad Burt and Carole had the foresight to let Kurt handle both boys' meals budget.

"If we're ever going to live together, Finn, you need to attain some money management skills. While it's true I will be the primary breadwinner after I become a legendary Broadway star, I'll expect you to pull your weight domestically and financially."

"You want to live together?" he asked around a mouthful of chicken. "Because after Nationals, it kind of sounded like you didn't plan on us being near each other during college."

"Another possibility has presented itself to me this summer," she explained. "Have you noticed that, out of all the couples in glee club, _we_ have been the most stable? Even Mike and Tina had a fight, and _something_happened between Blaine and Kurt, but we've been blissfully drama free for almost three months. While I'm sure that won't last once we begin preparing for our competitions – that brings out certain negative qualities in me, as you know – it's made me see that you could be really good for me when I'm in New York."

Finn grinned lopsidedly. "Yeah, I noticed that. Once you've got a role, and you're not competing against everyone, you really mellow out, well, you know, _for you_. I like reading lines with you and stuff."

Rachel took a deep breath. "Finn, I'm about to ask you something very important, and I don't want you to say anything until you're absolutely sure about your answer, whether it's today or next May. Because, Finn, I couldn't stand to get my hopes up only to have you back out at the last minute."

"Uh, we're a little young to get married."

"What?" She shook her head. "No, I'm not proposing. Well, not marriage anyway." She took another breath. "I'm going to college in New York, Finn. Kurt and Blaine are going too. We're going to get an apartment together and become stars. Finn … will you come with me?"

Finn stared down at his girlfriend, dumbstruck by the request. After several minutes, he finally responded. "I've heard you guys talking about it. You don't think I can hear because I'm playing video games or whatever, but I've heard you. I don't think I want to be a star, Rachel. This musical has been fun, and I love glee club, but performing all the time, like for work, isn't what I want to do."

"You don't have to want that to come to New York with me."

"I know. I just want you to know that I'm not going to be the high school quarterback forever. You won't be in a power couple if you're with me. You're going to be this awesome superpowerful star, and I'll be that guy they crop out of photos. I'm okay with that, but I don't know if you are."

Rachel fought down her smile. "Some of the best celebrity relationships are that way. I could be the Oprah of Broadway!" She stared off into the middle distance daydreaming.

"Oh, okay. I guess that's a good thing."

"Yes, it is." She still sounded drunk on the possibility. "Do you know what you want to study, Finn? There are so many schools in New York, and we have all year to find the perfect one for you. If that's where you want to study."

"I've been thinking about it a lot lately. There's really only one thing I want to be: a music teacher."

Rachel felt her breath catch in her throat. "You'll be an amazing teacher, Finn. You're a leader, and you've inspired glee club so much. I can't wait to see Mr. Schue's face when he finds out."

"He's kind of the reason I want to be a teacher."

"I figured."

"Rachel." Finn stopped them in the middle of the walkway and turned to face her. "I'm gonna be honest. I'm not sure about moving to New York. I want to say yes because I could be there with you and Kurt and Blaine. But I just don't know right now."

She took a steadying breath. "I didn't think you would. It goes against my nature to say this, but I mean it. I won't push you to make a decision. I meant what I said: today or next May. I'll wait for your answer."

**o o o**

Wes and David strolled through the Renaissance Faire trying to refrain from pointing out all the historical anachronisms too loudly. The girl with the zippered dress had taken offense to be called out, even if they hadn't meant for her to hear. The vendor selling chocolate-covered popcorn had argued with Wes for ten minutes about whether a German merchant – as his style of dress clearly indicated – could have obtained chocolate or corn kernels, much less consider combining the two, during the Renaissance.

Wes supposed this was a fun event, but it would have been more fun if he still felt like a part of the Warblers. The last few weeks had shifted the way he perceived his high school friends. They would always be dear to him, but as his departure for college drew nearer, he felt less connected to them. It didn't help that he held on to the gavel stubbornly just to spite Nick. He should have called a vote for a new Head Warbler already, but he couldn't do that to Blaine, who was one of the few younger friends he would definitely keep in contact with.

"You're a million miles away," David commented.

"Hmm. Oh, yeah. Just thinking. I heard from my roommates this week: Davis, David, and Daniel, if you believe that."

David chuckled deeply. "You sure you still want to me come visit? After living with roommates whose names are a tongue twister, you might welcome a chance to escape to the hallowed halls of Harvard."

"And wax nostalgically as you become a Whiffenpoof? No thanks."

David snorted. "That's Yale, Wes. No wonder you're going to NYU. You'd get run out an Ivy League school for a gaff like that."

Wes started to retort when something soft and bouncy hit the back of his head. He turned around just as two men, maybe in their late thirties dressed in colorful clothes, threw another handful of chocolate-covered popcorn at him. They hit him in the chest, and the popcorn exploded outward. David danced away to avoid the food.

"What the hell?" Wes demanded.

"Our good friend Klaus the Popcorn Seller told us you're a bit of a heckler, and since that's our official profession, we thought we'd come introduce ourselves. I'm Marco, and this here is my brother Milo."

Richard had warned everyone about the hecklers. Their sole joy at Renaissance Faires was to harass and extort unsuspecting patrons. Normally, they could be bought off with a few gold tokens, but Wes hadn't exchanged any of his money. He glared at the hecklers, turned on his heel, and walked away. David followed, but with several amused glances over his shoulder. Wes got popcorn thrown at him four more times before the hecklers' reserve ran out. They didn't stop following, however.

"What's your name, O ye popcorn hater?" they cackled at Wes, who only frowned more deeply and refused to answer.

David laughed, but didn't betray his friend. Unfortunately for Wes, all the shouting had attracted Jeff's attention, and he didn't hesitate to supply the hecklers with a name.

"Make way for Sir Wesley of Montgomery!" Milo called loudly. Heads began to turn to them from all sides, and Wes's face went bright red. Marco cried out, "Hail Sir Wesley, Supreme Wit of Seven Nations, Paragon of Courtly Manners and Decorum, Guardian of All Knowledge Great and Small, affectionately called by Her Majesty, Kissypoo."

Wes was, henceforth, referred to as Kissypoo by every person who heard the hecklers. When he tried to escape into the port-a-potty, Miles and Marco attacked it with such gusto that Wes fled in fear of being tipped over. By this point, David had started taking video on his phone with plans to upload it to YouTube that night.

"What do you want?" Wes roared at the hecklers.

They began miming Wes's angry face with exaggeration. He turned and stalked off. It took David a moment to realize he'd headed for the exit. Rather than leaving, however, Wes slammed a five dollar bill onto the ticket table and received a plastic baggie full of gold coins. He took them out one-by-one and threw them at the hecklers.

"Have. A. Gold. Coin. You. Bastards."

Between each word, Wes threw a coin, each throw more aggressive than the last until, finally, Milo and Marco backed away with their arms shielding their faces. Wes panted hard with exertion. A moment later, he realized how he must look, smoothed down the front of his t-shirt, and squared his shoulders. He was back to being dapper Dalton boy Wes within seconds. Then he saw David taking video of him.

David bolted, his longer legs giving him an advantage, thus starting what would become known as the most epic game of tag the Warblers had ever played. Well over half the Warblers joined in eventually, and they relocated to the empty melee field. No one understood for a couple hours why Wes pounced on David, "it" or not, at every opportunity until the heckling videos made their way onto YouTube.

**o o o**

Mercedes turned in a wide circle, scanning the crowd for any sign of Brittany and Santana. The ditzy blonde had been the one to insist they explore the Renaissance Faire together despite not being very good friends. Apparently, Brittany thought Mercedes needed protection in case someone tried to sell her into slavery. As if that hadn't irritated Mercedes enough, now her "protection" had disappeared entirely. Her phone buzzed with an incoming text message a few minutes later.

_Help! We've been kidnapped by pirates! –Brittany_

Mercedes rolled her eyes. She'd probably got stuck in a port-a-potty or wandered into the parking lot or something else completely normal and safe. Tucking her phone away, she went in search of any of her friends. Jeff would probably be a ton of fun right about now.

"Care to have your cards read, my dear?"

Mercedes turned to her left to find the speaker. A woman somewhere in her twenties with mousy brown hair tied back in a scarf and heavily penciled green eyes beckoned to her. A crystal ball sat on the tabletop, and the woman shuffled a deck of cards.

"Won't you get burned as a witch for reading tarot cards?" Mercedes asked.

She was in too foul a mood to care if she was forcing the "fortuneteller" into breaking character. The woman didn't seem to care, however. She grinned broadly and nodded.

"That's the point. I'm getting dragged off for a witch dunking Sunday afternoon."

Mercedes felt her lips twitching. This woman clearly didn't take herself too seriously and was here to have fun, so there was no harm in indulging a little in what would probably be a very inaccurate tarot card reading. She plopped down on the chair and dropped a couple dollars into the collection basket.

"My landlord thanks the spirits for moving you to donate," the woman said bluntly.

"You are, like, the worst actor at this Renaissance Faire. Are you even trying to stay in character?"

"Nope. What's your birthday?"

Mercedes told her, and the fortuneteller – who was probably a librarian or something – began laying out the tarot cards in a pattern that resembled a cross and a hook. For a couple minutes, the woman stared at the cards and made vague motions with her hands over their surfaces. Mercedes suspected she didn't have a clue what each card was supposed to mean.

"At the center of this reading is the Knave of Wands. He's usually a man younger than twenty-five, very handsome and creative. I see that you've had some trouble in the past. The Aces of Cups means you've recently parted ways, but you're meant to come together again. The Magician in this position symbolizes reunification. I see that you're afraid and you have doubts about him, but the Knave of Wands is a man of pure spirit. Your reading ends with The Lovers – a fairytale ending."

Mercedes knew her jaw had gone slack, but she didn't bother to wipe the shock off her face. She gestured wordlessly at the cards for several moments.

"You – You – That's so – The cards really say all that?" she stuttered.

The fortuneteller giggled. "I don't have a fucking clue what these cards mean. I'm just making this shit up. But there's a really hot guy over there staring at you like he's heartbroken and about to cry, so I figured I'd use him as inspiration."

Mercedes face went from shocked to amused to disgruntled and back to shocked as she turned in her chair and saw Sam leaning against a tree several dozen feet away. When he saw her looking, he pushed off and turned away, but didn't leave. Mercedes left the fortuneteller to her own special brand of crazy and went to meet Sam.

"Uh, Sorry," he mumbled. "I didn't mean …. I can go."

"No. Let's … let's go over there."

She jerked her head in the direction of wooden risers overlooking the archery range. The competitions had ended for the day, so it was mostly barren. Silence passed between them for several minutes.

"I miss you," Sam said finally. His mouth twitched in a way that Mercedes recognized from when he'd gotten emotional in the past.

"I miss you too," she whispered.

Silence again.

"I've been thinking about the things you said," he said finally. "I – I'm – You were so right, Mercedes. I'm sorry I've been such an idiot. I never meant to hurt you. Ever."

She struggled to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat. She wanted so badly to think this meant they were back together and everyone would be fine. But an apology wasn't enough, and she knew it too well.

"I know you didn't, Sam. You're a good guy. You're kind and too damned noble."

His lips twitched in a sad smile. "Mercedes, I want – Would you ever give me another chance?"

She had to bite her tongue to keep for yelling "Yes! Yes! Yes!" because she couldn't go through another round of secrets and lies. As much as she wanted to be with Sam, some things she couldn't compromise again.

"You know there's a stipulation," she said. He nodded. "Are you ready to date me and tell everyone about it? If you are, then yes. But if you're not, then I'm sorry, Sam, but I can't do it."

Sam ducked his head, and for a minute, Mercedes thought that was the end. Her first relationship had officially ended. She felt her heartbreak again in that moment. But then Sam looked up with a determined look in his slightly misty eyes.

"Will you come with me?"

She nodded and let him lead her by the hand through a long row of vendor stalls. On the way, he called out to anyone he recognized. Puck, Lauren, Jeff, Trent, and Richard soon had joined them as a sort of retinue trailing behind. They came at last to the blocked off patch of grass where fighters demonstrated swordplay.

"Wait here," Sam directed.

He dropped Mercedes's hand and ran off to hastily whisper something in the ear of the woman in period costume keeping children from leaning over the railing. She beamed at Sam and motioned for him to enter a tent to the left. Five minutes later, Sam emerged wearing the most ridiculous get up Mercedes had ever seen. He had on ill-fitting plate armor obviously borrowed from a smaller man, and on his arm was a shield bearing a hastily painted-on Raven.

"A challenge has been issued!" the woman called, and struggled not to smile at Sam as she announced to the crowd. "A newcomer has challenged the champion, my husband, Sir Garrick of Rosethorn! This is he, Sir Sammeth of Gorland!"

"Oh my God," Mercedes groaned, burying her face in her hands.

"Sir Sammeth of Gorland?" Flint didn't even bother trying to hide the amusement in his voice. Jeff had already doubled over in laughter and clung to Puck to stay upright.

"It's his World of Warcraft name," Mercedes explained.

Sam walked over to Mercedes at the barricade, clanking in his armor and waddling a little because he was too tall for the leg plates. He held out a safety-taped sword and grinned fetchingly.

"May I beg a favor of you, my Lady, so all the world will know it is for your affections I fight this day?" She had watched enough of his beloved fantasy movies to both understand his convoluted English and understand what he meant for her to do. Grinning despite her embarrassment at her geek boyfriend, she pulled the pink zebra striped scarf from her hair and tied it around his sword.

Sam moved into the center of the arena to face off against his opponent, a man nearly six-and-a-half feet tall and a solid two hundred pounds. The man took one look at Mercedes's scarf and cracked a smile he hastily hid. Apparently, sword fighting in video games was much easier than in real life. Sam went down in under a minute, but enjoyed his demise entirely too much.

"As I lay here dying on the field of battle, my thoughts turn to my lady," he cried, hamming it up. The audience watched with bemused expressions. Sam had finally found some people who thought he was cool.

"Then get over here and kiss her!" Mercedes shouted, cutting off his speech before he really got in the stride.

Sam didn't need to be told twice. He leapt up from the ground and ran over to Mercedes – clanking and waddling the whole way. She climbed up on the first rung of the barricade to meet his lips halfway. The spectators burst into applause as they kissed. Lauren wolf-whistled, and Puck shouted, "Get some!" The kiss was short and chaste only because of the children watching.

After Sam had wriggled out of the too small armor, he joined his friends and girlfriend again looking a little flush (or sunburned, Mercedes couldn't quite tell).

"You should think about joining SCA," Richard said seriously. "You'd be a great addition at our meetings and Ren Faires."

Mercedes groaned and dragged Sam away to spend the rest of the day alone together. It came as no surprise that everyone knew about their relationship when they got back to the hotel just before curfew.

"You look ridiculously happy," Kurt said, wrapping her in a tight hug.

She giggled. "I am."

Brittany and Santana missed curfew entirely. At ten o'clock, Mr. Schue was about ready to call the police and report them missing when Blaine received a text message from Santana that directed everyone – including Mr. Schue – to come down to the lobby.

"They'd better have a good explanation for why … they're …" Mr. Schue trailed off as he stepped off the elevator. Brittany and Santana stood at the soft seating in the lobby, and all around them were men in costumes heavily inspired by Jack Sparrow. One-by-one, they turned to peer up at the gapping teacher and flashed him grins full of black and gold teeth. "We were kidnapped from the Renaissance Faire by pirates," Brittany said, as if it was the most common and natural thing in the world.


	14. Let Me Spell It Out For You

******Author's Note: ******The full cast list can be found here (remove the spaces): h t t p : / / arainymonday . wordpress . com / 2011 / 07 / 05 / a-fine-frenzy-cast-list

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Fourteen<strong>  
><strong>Let Me Spell It Out For You<strong>

_Last week of August_

_Counterpoints_  
><em> Proud to be the only show choir blog in existence!<em>

_August 29, 2011_

"_Warblers and New Directions and Musicals, Oh My!"_  
><em>Posted by Alex McKinney<em>

_ Last weekend, the Indianapolis area geeked out for the annual Fishers Renaissance Faire. I'm not usually the SCA type, but I heard New Directions from William McKinley High School in Lima, Ohio (ranked 12__th__ nationally) and the Dalton Academy Warblers from Westerville, Ohio (ranked 7__th__ nationally in 2008) joined forces to put on a musical adaptation of A Mid-Summer Night's Dream. Naturally, I had to be in the audience._

_ This musical was clearly the hit of the Ren Faire. After the first performance Saturday afternoon, word spread quickly that this musical was not to be missed. I went to the Saturday evening show._

_The audience was a mixture of Renaissance period dress, modern street clothes, belly dancers, Knights in armor, and strangely, a rather large contingent of pirates. Every seat had been filled, and there was a lot of overflow onto the lawn where the audience watched from blankets or folding chairs._

_The stage itself was nothing spectacular, just a plain rectangular black platform raised a few feet off the ground. A wood frame set piece draped in plastic greenery on one side and lush red velvet on the other provided the sole backdrop. An open air lawn is certainly not the ideal set up for a musical. There are no panels to approve acoustics, no electrical equipment to improve sound. Just the actors' talent to carry the show._

_Kurt Hummel starred as Puck. The second this gorgeous boy opened his mouth, I fell in love with him. You haven't heard angels sing until you've heard Kurt. Strangely, my sources tell me Kurt has only had one solo at competitions? What! That's probably why you didn't win Nationals, New Directions. If Kurt went to my school, no one else would ever get solos. My director would build a shrine to Kurt, and we'd all be required to make ritual sacrifices on his alter. _

_ The show also starred Blaine Anderson (Warblers) as Lysander, Rachel Berry (New Directions) as Hermia, Quinn Fabray (New Directions) as Helena, and Finn Hudson (New Directions) as Demetrius. Back when I competed against the Warblers at Nationals, Blaine was just a harmonizing prop piece in the background, but now he's their lead soloist. Swaying in the background clearly taught him the importance of working with others even when he's out front, something Rachel and Quinn need to learn. Both girls are amazing actresses and singers, but they need to learn to give up the spotlight for the greater good sometimes._

_ Wesley Montgomery (Warblers) provided the comic relief as Nick Bottom. In my opinion, he would have stolen the show except for Kurt's stunning voice and life-ruining hip thrusts. (Yeah, I'm going to be fanboying over him for a long time). I know Wes a little from bumping into him backstage at Nationals, and I hear he's going to Tisch this fall. Good choice, NYU. And congratulations, Wes!_

_ The rest of the cast did commendable jobs in their supporting roles. I have to give special notice to Jeff S. Sterling (Warblers) who had the audience in hysterics with his awkwardly pubescent teenage boy voice, and the choreography of Mike Chang and Brittany S. Pierce, because I haven't seen a musical with so much movement since RENT._

_ Props to the director, William Schuester (New Directions glee club director), for assigning girls' parts to boys and to Cameron James and James Kirk (Warblers) for taking those roles. That's not something you see every day in the Midwest, and it needs to be said how much it means to guys like me who don't get a lot of support from their teachers. New Directions is also the only show choir I know of with a member in a wheelchair. (Artie Abrams played Oberon in the show). Another point to Mr. Schuester for recognizing everyone deserves the chance be a part of glee._

_ I saw several phones out taking video, so look for some YouTube uploads in the coming days._

**o o o**

Santana leaned against the pane of windows and stared down the senior corridor. All the usual first day chaos reigned. Friends who hadn't spent as much time together at New Directions caught up on their summer vacations, compared tans, swapped class schedules, and decorated their new lockers together.

Santana stood apart from it all. She didn't need to do any of that. Her thoughts dwelled on the finality of this moment. It was a beginning, yes, but the last beginning. Never again would she have a first day of high school, and she felt to ignore this moment was to miss an important step in her life. So she stood back and contemplated this very second and where it might lead her.

She spotted several of her friends appearing from the other end of the hallway. Kurt had dressed to impress in a canary-yellow jacket and feathered hat. Rachel walked on his left in a hideous ensemble that made her look exactly like the penguin on her shirt. Mike and Tina had moved into the same locker this year and taped up pictures of themselves, New Directions, and some Warblers on the door. Brittany flounced over to her locker, pausing on the way to say hello to friends she had seen just a few days ago.

Santana pushed off from the wall, but hesitated. She and Brittany had spent all summer together avoiding the one thing that kept them apart. Seeing her every day and not being with her had killed Santana, but she'd distracted herself with the musical and her new friendship with Blaine. The start of a new school year shouldn't change anything. Except it did.

The start of senior year called to mind graduation. Moving away. Moving apart. It frightened Santana to imagine a life without Brittany in it. Her parents had already started leaving college applications on the dining room table for her and new packets arrived in the mail every day. Staying in Lima scared her, leaving Brittany scared her.

She had confessed all this last night, but not to Brittany. She knew she needed to say it – that she wanted a future with Brittany. But that wouldn't happen until Santana came out, and she wasn't ready for that. Not now, not here.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, momentarily distracting her. She grinned at the text. Although she wanted to roll her eyes, it felt uplifting to know someone thought about her and cared enough to want her to find happiness.

_I've got razor blades in my hair if you need backup. –Blaine_

Santana crossed the distance to Brittany's locker and met her friend with a smile. The blonde girl was very intently arranging her notebooks and folders. "Hey, Britt. Wow. That's a lot of paper."

"I'm going to raise a chinchilla in my locker this year," she answered.

Santana furrowed her brow and cocked her head, not understanding why that required paper or even why Brittany would want to do that after the bird-in-the-locker incident. She decided to skip that statement altogether.

"We have Government together first period, right?"

"You want to sit together?" Brittany asked. She took a blue folder and notebook from the huge stack in her locker.

"Yeah."

The girls turned away from the bank of lockers to walk to the social studies classroom. Santana linked her pinky around Brittany's.

**o o o**

Mercedes and Sam held hands across the table and grinned dopily at each other as their waitress finished writing down their order and left them alone to make lovesick expressions at each other until their food came up.

"You were amazing in glee today," Sam said, grinning stupidly as Mercedes blushed. "No one's ever serenaded me before."

"Well, I had to do _something_ to pay you back for that sword fighting stunt at the Ren Faire. I thought about signing up for World of Warcraft, but I didn't want you to get _too_excited."

Sam flushed and mumbled something about loving to see Mercedes in his guild. Really, though, he had preferred his girlfriend cutting off Mr. Schue's "assignment of the week" speech to say she had a song to perform. He'd melted into a soppy mess when she'd started singing "Ain't No Other Man."

"So what's the occasion?" he asked at last.

It wasn't every day they made a trip to Breadstix after school. Since telling their friends about their relationship, they had mostly kept to their usual routine of watching movies at Mercedes's house and babysitting Sam's siblings whenever his parents needed them. Once or twice, Sam had let Mercedes treat him to a movie.

"Do I need an occasion to spend time with my boyfriend?"

"No. But this seems like a special date."

Mercedes blushed to her ears and nodded shyly. There was something special she wanted to talk to him about that couldn't be said in her living room – especially since Kellan hadn't gone back to college yet. Ruining her plans would be the cherry on top of his summer sundae.

"There is something. I was wondering if you worked on Saturday? Or if you had to babysit Stevie and Stacy?" She looked like the world might end if he said he wasn't free.

"My shift at work ends at four," he said, cringing a little.

"Oh!" She shifted in her seat. "Well, that's okay. That's perfect, actually." He arched his brow, silently telling her to explain. "Right. So you know that Kellan is moving back to MU this weekend, and since he's got an off campus apartment this year, he needs extra help moving in."

"Sure. I can help."

Mercedes shook her head. "No, Sam. I'm not asking you to move my brother. I'm telling you that both of my parents are going to help him. They're going to stay overnight in Oxford and help him unpack on Sunday. So … I'll have the house all to myself Saturday night."

"Oh, man. We could have another glee party to celebrate the start of senior year!"

Mercedes's face fell. "What? No! Sam, your girlfriend – who just sang "Ain't No Other Man" to you – is going to be home with no parental supervision and no chance of interruption and you're thinking about a _party_?"

Sam's eyes shifted, almost guiltily. "Well … I … What were you thinking about?"

She frowned deeply at him before saying, in her sassiest voice, "Well, I was thinking about sex, but I'm not now."

His hand tightened around hers. "What can I do to make you start thinking about sex again?"

Their waitress picked that precise moment to appear at their table balancing two plates of pasta on a tray. She set their food down in front of them without comment and disappeared again. Mercedes's head dropped to the tabletop in humiliation.

"Hey, it's not the worst thing she's ever heard. Santana and Brittany eat here all the time."

Mercedes chuckled nervously and sat up again. "How about we save the rest of the conversation for Saturday night?"

"When I will be coming over to your house alone," Sam added.

They shared many shy and nervous smiles over dinner. It had started to rain when they left the restaurant with arms wrapped around each other. Sam reluctantly let go of Mercedes's waist to slip off his jacket and hold it over her head as they ran to her car. As she brushed off the few raindrops attached to her arms, she watched her boyfriend climb into the passenger seat. He was soaked to the skin, but smiling despite it.

"I got myself a good man."

"I have the best woman in the whole world."

**o o o**

Nick opened the double doors leading to the Warblers' meeting room and halted for a second on the threshold. Ten pairs of eyes turned to stare wide-eyed at him. The auditioning freshmen had clustered together on the couches at the rear left of the room. The returning Warblers perched around them, offering encouraging smiles and making small talk.

Regaining his stride, Nick took his seat at the center of the Council table with Jeff to his left and Cameron to his right. His eyes fell on the gavel lying inches from his fingertips, and he felt a wave of uncertainty and nostalgia as he recalled the three years he had spent facing this table. He had hated Marc, Head Warbler his freshmen year, because he made too many unilateral decisions. The next Head Warbler, Josiah, had been a little heavy-handed with song selection, but otherwise a nice guy. And, of course, Wes, the best Head Warbler to date. They had had their differences, but Nick knew he had big shoes to fill.

"I call this first meeting of the 2011-2012 Warblers to order," he said, tapping the gavel on the wooden base. "Let's begin with introductions."

As each boy in the room took turns stating his name, class, and singing part, Cameron listed all the Warblers in attendance in the minutes. The freshmen, after their introduction, sang their auditioning piece. After all ten performed their songs, they exited the room as a group to wait outside the door while their future with the Warblers was debated.

Jeff stated each freshman's name, and the Warblers voted by a show of hands. Majority votes were accepted immediately; split votes required deliberation. The debate spilled over the allotted meeting time, but Nick let it continue. No other group would try to kick the Warblers out of their assigned room during auditions. Even clubs with call outs during the first week of classes would find another location before disturbing the Warblers.

"He's too showy," Richard argued against a boy named Rory.

"Most of us were too showy when we auditioned," Flint countered. "God, do you remember Kurt's audition?" An undercurrent of laughter erupted around the room. "But we all ended up loving Kurt. And think about how bombastic Blaine can be."

The mood in the room shifted at the mention of Blaine, and Flint seemed to realize too late he should have stopped at talking about Kurt. Nick cleared his throat and interjected his opinion into the argument.

"Rory is the only one of the freshmen I think we can't do without. You're right, Richard, he is too showy, but we need a little bit of showbiz panache," he said, borrowing Kurt's argument. "We'll teach him how to become part of the group before we turn him loose, but we _do_need him if we want to make it past Sectionals this year."

Jeff went into the hallway to deliver the good news to Rory Hammond, Gavin Masters, Christian Mercier, and Alexander St. John. The four boys filed into the room behind Jeff looking slightly dazed, but very happy.

"Let's welcome our newest Warblers," Nick said, smiling at the boys.

The Warblers exploded into applause as the four freshmen hovered uncertainly at the door. Slowly, smiles spread over their lips as they realized they had been accepted into the most prestigious and elite club at Dalton Academy.

"Each new Warbler is assigned a mentor," Nick explained to them, after the room had quieted. He paired up Flint and Gavin, Christian and Luke, and Alexander and Richard. "Rory, I'll be your mentor this year." The boy looked exceptionally pleased that the Head Warbler had selected him.

The details of life as a Warbler could come later from their mentors. For now, Nick was content to adjourn the meeting and quickly arrange a time to meet with Rory. He left the room last, locking the doors with the key only the Council could check out from the front office and went to return it.

_Auditions took longer than expected. I'm leaving now. –Nick_

He didn't receive a reply before he climbed into his car and started up the engine. He figured that meant McKinley auditions were taking just as long. Half an hour later, he pulled into the country club parking lot and went to sign in at the front desk.

"Your guest has already arrived, Mr. Duval," the attendant said pleasantly.

He thanked the woman and went to change out of his Dalton uniform. Jogging down the steps to the tennis court fifteen minutes later, he spotted Quinn with a group of regulars. His girlfriend had been true to her word: she wore an all white tennis outfit and held a new racket in hand. She turned when he called her name and posed for him.

"How do I look?"

"Like you've been doing this your whole life." He greeted her with a kiss, partly because he missed her since school started three days ago and partly to send a message to the guys flirting with her. "Ready for your first lesson?"

She nodded. "But first tell me about the auditions."

As Nick pulled a canister of tennis balls from his bag and tested his racket for lose strings, he summarized the auditions he'd just come from, including how he would be mentoring Rory, who had just the stage presence the Warblers badly needed. Then he asked about the New Directions auditions.

"We're not popular enough to get _ten_auditions," she joked. Her face changed into something tenderer as she added, "But we have one new member."

"Good," he said firmly.

"Nick, it's not your fa – "

"Yes, it is. But let's not dwell on that, okay? Let's play tennis and enjoy today. I don't get to see you nearly enough now that school has started again."

To emphasize just how much he missed her, he put his hands on her waist and pulled her in for another kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed back, too happy to forget about glee club drama and tennis lessons and senior year.

When Quinn was with Nick, she felt free to imagine a world beyond Lima, Ohio. And she did. At every opportunity.

**o o o**

Blaine and Kurt sat at their familiar table at the Lima Bean sipping coffee and gazing at each other over cup rims. Three months ago, they had sat at this very table and said "I love you" for the first time. A lot had changed since that morning, but if their feelings for each other had changed at all, it was only because their love had matured into some deeper.

"I'm just saying," Blaine defended himself, "this Alex kid is your first fanboy, and I don't know how I feel about him making suggestive comments about you like that."

"He commented on my _voice_."

"And your hips."

Kurt took in his boyfriend's pouty face and melted into a puddle of lovestruck goo. It was too cute seeing Blaine jealous of a guy from Indiana neither of them had ever met because of one little comment about "life-ruining" hips.

"Let the world admire my hips, because you're the only one who gets the benefits of my amazing moves," Kurt said, waggling his eyebrows.

The dark-haired boy stowed his phone away, though he would be reading Alex McKinney's _Counterpoints_blog regularly to make sure the fanboy didn't get out of hand. It was a ridiculous thought. One day, Kurt was going to be famous and hundreds of journalists would be writing about him in the same way. He knew that, but it didn't stop the twinge of jealousy.

"We should go before we're late," Blaine remarked.

Kurt checked his watch and hastily agreed. Their coffee dates had become progressively longer over the course of the week until they were both nearly late for class every morning. Blaine held the door open for Kurt, and they left their favorite coffee shop to face the real world.

"Is it sad that only one week into the new school year I'm already dying for the weekend to start?" Blaine inquired.

Kurt smiled sadly before climbing into his Navigator. Blaine stretched out in the passenger seat and rolled his neck to watch his boyfriend.

"I did remind you that public high school is Hell and McKinley is the seventh circle."

"I'm not sorry I transferred," Blaine stated resolutely.

It had taken some work convincing his parents it was the right move. His dad was especially opposed to it, probably because it was Kurt's school more than it was a public high school. His mom had intervened on his behalf, however, after listening to Blaine explain about losing himself at Dalton and feeling more like himself with New Directions than the Warblers.

Kurt smiled sadly and gripped his boyfriend's hand across the center console. He knew there was more going on inside of Blaine's head because they had talked about it before his transfer. He was relieved to hear Blaine didn't regret his decision despite the Slushie facial on the second day of classes or having to audition for glee club after singing with them all summer or the deadly boring classes or numerous other horrors of public high school.

"Even if you'd stayed at Dalton and competed against us, I would be with you. Nothing will ever change the way I feel about you."

"I know, Kurt. Getting to see you every day is amazing, and I don't want to discount that as one of the reasons I transferred, but it's not the only one. You've inspired me, Kurt. You and New Directions bring out a side of me I thought had been beaten away. I want to be that guy all the time, and I can only be him if I stop running and face my fears. It's easier to be dapper Blaine Warbler and hide behind a blazer, but that's not who I really am. I'm the sap who likes romantic comedies and gushes over _Vogue_covers and secretly loves hipster fashion."

"It's not a secret," Kurt said, looking pointedly at Blaine's outfit.

"My point is, New Directions is where I belong right now. This is where I'll find myself again."

**o o o**

Finn and Blaine arrived in the choir room just as the seventh period bell rang. Mr. Schue had already started writing on the board in dry erase marker. Brittany gestured frantically at Blaine. She had made him sit next to her in glee everyday that week. Kurt sat on his other side, and they silently linked hands when he sat down. Santana, who had texted Blaine throughout biology, leaned around Brittany and nodded. They were definitely going to the Sufjan Stevens concert in Dayton next week.

"Okay, guys," Mr. Schue said, turning to his students. "You all had great assignments this week. Now, it's time for our first big group number with our newest member." Everyone turned to smile at Blaine. "If this is as good as I think it's going to be, we might have our opening number for Sectionals already. Let's go to the auditorium and practice."

Thirty minutes later, Mr. Schue sat in the audience as the glee club took their places on the risers. The all wore jeans with yellow shirts of various styles. The costumes were simple, but fit the song perfectly.

Finn stepped out front and began to sing directly to Rachel in the front row.

"_What would you think if I sang out of tune,  
>would you stand up and walk out on me?"<em>

Rachel took his hand and circled around him, singing:

_"Lend me your ears and I'll sing you a song,  
>and I'll try not to sing out of key."<em>

The whole group chimed in on the chorus, moving around the risers in pairs as Mike and Brittany had choreographed.

"_Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends.  
>Mm, I get high with a little help from my friends.<br>Mm, gonna try with a little help from my friends."_

Kurt and Blaine emerged from the group holding hands and alternated lines. Blaine sang first, his tenor blending perfectly with Kurt's countertenor notes.

"_What do I do when my love is away?  
>(Does it worry you to be alone?)<br>How do I feel by the end of the day?  
>(Are you sad because you're on your own?)"<em>

The glee club rotated their positions, singing the chorus together again. This time Brittany and Mike appearing at the center of the middle riser, spinning around and doing a stunning lift. They both preferred highlighting their dance moves to having a solo.

Tina and Quinn took the next verse. Tina sang first and Quinn answered with a longing in her voice. The blonde looked to her left, almost as if she expected someone to be standing there to sing with her.

"_Do you need anybody?  
>I need somebody to love.<br>Could it be anybody?  
>I want somebody to love."<em>

Sam and Mercedes danced to the front, swaying slightly with their arms interlinked as they each sang their two lines to each other.

"_Would you believe in a love at first sight?  
>Yes, I'm certain that it happens all the time."<em>

_"What do you see when you turn out the light?  
>I can't tell you but I know it's mine."<em>

The group spun in unison as they sang the chorus again.

Artie rolled to the center of the stage and spun twice in his wheelchair as he sang a question to Santana, who emerged from between Blaine and Rachel in the front row.

"_Do you need anybody?  
>I just need someone to love.<br>Could it be anybody?  
>I want somebody to love."<em>

For the final chorus, the glee club linked arms with their friends so that they formed three rows of swaying, singing teenagers with beatific smiles. Although the choreography called for them to sing to the audience, they couldn't resist smiling at their best friends and lovers as they finished the song.

"_Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends.  
>Mm, I get high with a little help from my friends.<br>Mm, gonna try with a little help from my friends.  
>...with a little help from my friends."<em>

**FIN**

* * *

><p>Thank you for reading <em>A Fine Frenzy<em>. I had such a great time writing this story, and sharing it with you all has been a wonderful experience.

I anticipate some questions about a sequel. The fact is, I have never successfully completed a sequel. But there is a first time for everything. As it happens, a sequel to this story is the only Glee plot bunny in my head right now. I have started writing already. I only post stories once they are complete, so I ask for your patience while I write what will undoubtedly be a story as long and complex as _A Fine Frenzy_.

In the meantime, check out _A Fine Frenzy: Outtakes_ on my author page for some one-shot companions. Don't be shy about giving me prompts by review or PM. Some of my favorite one-shots have been prompted.

If you feel compelled to do so, please leave me a review to let me know what you thought of the story. For those of you who have already reviewed, you have my sincerest gratitude.

Until next time,  
>Heather<p> 


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